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MADAME 

RECAMIER 

AND  HER 

FR1END5 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


MADAM K    RECAMIER 

from  the  original  /mini in f;  by  J .  I..  David  in  the  Louvre 


DC 

TRANSLATOR'S    PREFACE. 


TT  7HEN  an  English  translation  of  Madame  Rd- 
camier's  "  Memoirs "  was  given  to  the 
American  public,  in  1866,  it  occasioned  the  same 
feeling  of  disappointment  as  the  original  work  had 
previously  created  in  France  upon  its  first  publica- 
tion, in  1859.  The  cause  of  this  dissatisfaction  was 
obvious,  for,  though  the  book  was  in  the  highest 
degree  interesting,  it  failed  to  give  a  life-like  and 
satisfactory  image  of  Madame  Recamier  herself. 

This  was  the  more  disappointing,  as  few  lives 
have  excited  a  more  lively  curiosity.  If  it  be 
true,  as  Carlyle  somewhere  says,  that  were  it  pos- 
sible to  obtain  a  faithful  record  of  even  the  most 
humble  and  commonplace  life,  with  all  its  thoughts 
and  emotions,  hopes  and  fears,  it  would  be  more 
thiilling  than  the  most  startling  romance,  how 
much  greater  the  interest  such  a  life  as  Mme.  Re- 
camier's  would  excite,  if  we  could  get  at  the  whole 
truth  concerning  so  strange  and  eventful  a  career, 
know  the  true  story  of  the  men  who  loved  her, 


IV  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

the  women  who  suffered  by  her ;  how  she  really 
felt  toward  Prince  Augustus,  and  what  were  her 
own  pangs  and  heart-trials ;  if  we  could  penetrate 
beneath  the  surface  of  that  most  courteous  and 
polished  of  salons,  where  friend  and  foe  met  on 
neutral  ground,  and  antipathies  were  carefully  con- 
cealed or  ignored !  Did  Chateaubriand  and  Bal- 
lanche  really  like  each  other  ?  And  Ampere,  did 
he  do  more  than  simply  tolerate  the  egotistical 
author  of  the  "  Genius  of  Christianity  ?  "  How 
was  it  that  Madame  de  Stael,  who  could  not 
even  bear  to  hear  of  the  marriage  of  any  of  her 
male  friends,  cordially  welcomed  to  her  heart  and 
home  so  formidable  a  rival  ?  Did  she  never  feel  a 
jealous  pang  at  seeing  her  whilom  admirers  at  the 
feet  of  this  lovely  Juliette  ?  And  Monsieur  R^- 
camier,  was  he  always  content  to  be  known  as  the 
merely  nominal  husband  of  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  Europe  ? 

Such  questions  inevitably  suggest  themselves ;  and 
though,  doubtless,  many  of  them  are  vain  and  unrea- 
sonable, —  out  of  the  power  even  of  a  very  Boswell 
to  answer  satisfactorily, — still,  as  Madame  R^camier 
was  strictly  a  social  celebrity,  it  is  reasonable  to 
desire  fuller  information  concerning  her  than  these 
"  Memoirs  "  furnished  ;  to  read  her  letters,  to  see 
her  in  the  freedom  and  intimacy  of  her  own  fire- 
side, at  hours  when  the  famous  salon  was  silent 


TRANSLATORS   PREFACE.  V 

and  empty ;  to  be  able,  in  fine,  to  understand,  if 
not  the  secrets  of  her  life,  at  least  her  personal 
character  and  her  ends  and  aims. 

This  knowledge  the  present  volume,  of  twelve 
years  later  date,  in  a  measure  supplies.  If  it  does 
not  explain  the  mysteries  of  Madame  Recamier's 
life,  it  helps  us  to  understand  better  her  character  ; 
and  from  the  new  material  it  furnishes,  including 
over  forty  of  her  own  notes  and  letters,  it  is  a 
valuable  supplement  to  the  more  voluminous  "  Me- 
moirs." 

Though  not  so  rich  in  anecdote  and  incident  as 
its  predecessor,  it  is  better  planned  and  executed. 
It  has  also  the  merit  of  presenting  its  author  as 
well  as  her  subject  in  a  more  just  as  it  is  certainly 
a  more  favorable  light.  This  is  the  more  note- 
worthy, as  in  the  "  Memoirs,"  unfortunately,  Ma- 
dame Lenormant  failed  to  inspire  that  confidence 
in  herself  which  it  is  so  essential  that  all  writers 
of  biography  should  inspire  in  their  readers. 

Burdened  with  her  great  mass  of  material,  and 
hampered,  moreover,  by  an  earnest  desire  to  keep 
her  own  personality  entirely  out  of  sight,  Madame 
Lenormant  was  led  to  do  injustice  to  herself  as 
well  as  to  her  subject.  Experience  and  the  criti- 
cisms her  first  book  called  forth  have  evidentlv 
taught  her  much.  Overcoming  her  natural  reluc- 
tance to  speak  of   herself,   she,  in  a  modest  and 


VI  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

circumstantial  narrative,  tells  the  story  of  her  own 
relations  with  Madame  Rdcamier,  —  a  story  which 
not  only  induces  a  higher  esteem  for  the  famous 
woman  whose  virtues  it  illustrates,  but  reflects 
most  favorably  upon  the  narrator  herself. 

Madame  Recamier's  letters  to  her  niece  confirm 
the  narrative  of  the  latter.  Insignificant  in  other 
respects,  they  are  valuable  as  indications  of  char- 
acter. We  are  struck  with  the  little  their  writer 
exacts  from  the  woman  whose  mind  she  had 
moulded,  and  whose  happiness  she  had  taken  such 
pains  to  secure.  Unlike  too  many  benefactors,  she 
claims  nothing  on  the  score  of  gratitude. 

And  yet  the  burden  that  Madame  Recamier  im- 
posed upon  herself  when  she  undertook  the  care 
of  her  husband's  little  niece  was  no  light  one. 
That  this  "  spoiled  child  of  fortune,"  as  Camille 
Jordan  calls  her,  should,  at  the  age  of  forty,  when 
habits  are  generally  fixed,  keep  so  closely  to  her 
side  and  rear  thus  carefully  a  daughter  by  adoption, 
is  certainly  not  a  little  remarkable.  It  is  pleasant 
to  find  that  she  had  her  reward  in  the  life-long  love 
and  gratitude  of  one  in  whose  arms  she  died,  and 
by  whom  she  has  evidently  been  most  sincerely 
lamented. 

But  while  these  personal  details  respecting  the 
family  life  of  Madame  Recamier  are  undoubtedly 
the  most  interesting  and   important  part  of  the 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE.  VU 

book,  they  are  by  no  means  the  only  ones  which 
throw  light  upon  her  character.  By  a  judicious 
arrangement  we  are  enabled  to  trace  the  develop- 
ment and  growth  of  her  intrinsically  fine  and  unique 
nature.  We  see  her  successively  surrounded  by 
the  friends  of  her  early  life  and  of  her  riper  years. 
We  read  her  letters,  we  note  how  the  coquetry  of 
her  youth  gives  place  to  nobler  aims  and  more 
serious  occupations.  It  is  no  longer  simply  as  the 
great  beauty,  the  queen  of  society,  that  we  learn 
to  regard  her,  but  as  a  lovely  and  gracious  woman 
who  rose  superior  to  the  temptations  of  her  strange 
lot,  and  who,  with  every  excuse  for  being  vain, 
frivolous,  and  selfish,  was,  in  an  eminent  degree, 
unaffected,  serious,  and  disinterested. 

The  grace  and  tact  which  gave  Madame  Re- 
camier  her  social  influence  amounted  almost  to 
genius,  while  she  seems  to  have  been  by  no  means 
deficient  in  literary  taste  and  ability.  At  fifty-two 
she  writes,  '•  I  have  been  looking  up  historical  facts 
for  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  which  has  given  me  quite 
a  taste  for  history.  I  have  read  Thiers  and  Mig- 
net,  and  I  am  now  reading  Tacitus ; "  and  when 
she  had  reached  the  age  of  seventy  she  assisted 
Ampdre  to  prepare  a  volume  of  extracts  from  the 
works  of  Ballanche.  "  Give  me,"  writes  Camille 
Jordan,  early  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVIII.,  "  your 
impression  of  this  new  regime^  and  your  estimate 


vm  TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE. 

of  public  opinion,  for  you  know  the  value  I  attach 
to  it,  and  how  I  delight  to  hear  you,  with  youi 
pure  and  discriminating  mind,  talk  on  all  subjects 
even  the  most  serious." 

This  tribute  has  the  more  weight  as  Camille 
Jordan  was  not  a  man  to  indulge  in  unmeaning 
compliments.  Among  the  group  of  distinguished 
men  who  surround  Madame  Recamier,  he  stands 
pre-eminent  for  his  manliness  of  character  and  thor- 
ough independence.  Unlike  most  of  her  friends, 
it  does  not  appear  that  he  at  any  time  assumed  the 
role  of  a  lover ;  and  while  his  letters  testify  to  his 
great  admiration  and  respect  for  her,  they  also  un- 
mistakably show  that  his  wife  and  children  always 
held  the  first  place  in  his  heart. 

Still  stronger  evidence,  if  possible,  of  Madame 
Kecamier's  power  of  inspiring  and  retaining  affec- 
tion is  to  be  found  in  the  amusing  letters  from  Ma- 
dame de  Boigne.  A  few  words  in  regard  to  this 
brilliant  woman  will  not  be  amiss  here. 

Madame  de  Boigne  was  the  daughter  of  the  Mar- 
quis d' Osmond,  who  with  his  famil}''  was  driven 
from  France  by  the  Revolution  of  1789.  She  was 
married  in  England  to  General  de  Boigne,  who 
had  acquired  distinction  and  wealth  in  India.  He 
was  much  older  than  his  wife,  and  as  they  were, 
in  other  respects,  uncongenial,  they  soon  agreed  to 
live  apart.     There  was  no  public  rupture  and  no 


TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE.  IX 

scandal.  Madame  de  Boigne  continued  to  reside 
with  her  parents,  though  paying  her  husband  a 
short  annual  visit  in  Savoy.  Brilliant  as  well  as 
beautiful,  she  became,  upon  the  return  of  the  family 
from  exile,  a  power  in  society.  In  Paris  she  pre- 
sided over  her  father's  house  with  grace  and  ele- 
gance ;  and  when  he  was  appointed  successively 
ambassador  to  Turin  and  to  London,  she  accom- 
panied him,  and  by  her  tact  and  address  contrib- 
uted largely  to  the  success  of  his  missions. 

An  old  and  warm  friend  of  Marie-Amelie,  Ma- 
dame de  Boigne  was  among  the  first  of  the  old 
aristocracy  to  render  allegiance  to  Louis  Philippe, 
and  as  she  was  very  intimate  with  Pasquier,  her 
salon,  under  the  new  regime,  became  a  political 
.  centre.  According  to  Sainte-Beuve,  no  reproach 
was  ever  attached  to  her  name.  This  eminent 
critic  and  sly  gossip,  who  knew  so  well  how  to  in- 
sinuate blame,  while  seeming  intent  on  praising, 
has  no  qualifying  words  in  his  eulogy  of  Madame 
de  Boigne.     He  writes  :  — 

"If  she  had  been  a  man,  the  Countess  de  Boigne 
would  have  been  one  of  the  most  eminent  and  useful 
politicians  of  her  day,  and  the  government  would  have 
had  the  services  of  one  minister  the  more.  Nor  did  the 
possession  of  these  solid  qualities  obscure  in  her  the 
womanly  graces ;  she  was  elegance  itself.  Praise  from 
her  had  a  high  value,  because  she  was  not  prodigal  in 


X  TRANSLATORS   PREFACE. 

bestowing  it.  A  word  of  approbation  from  her  was  a 
revvard.  She  talked  extremely  well,  —  to  perfection,  in 
fact,  —  using  terms  at  once  elegant  and  precise.  There 
was  no  vagueness  in  her  style.  I  fancy  that  the  highly 
extolled  Marechale  de  Luxembourg  must  have  expressed 
herself  in  much  the  same  fashion.  The  last  few  years, 
so  full  of  change  for  her,  the  late  revolutions,  of  which 
she  had  seen  so  many,  found  her  calm,  tranquil,  not 
surprised,  and  always  just.  In  spite  of  her  impaired 
health,  she  still  retained  her  love  of  society,  her  interest 
in  the  drama  of  politics,  the  integrity  and  firmness  of  her 
intellect.  She  had  the  good  sense  to  perceive  that  some 
concessions  must  be  made  to  the  times.  She  still  kept 
her  old  friends,  her  private  j^references,  but  little  by 
little  she  renewed  her  salon.  New-comers  found 
it  pleasant  to  be  there,  and  learned  to  appreciate 
her."  .  .  . 

Madame  de  Boigne  died  on  the  10th  of  May, 
1866,  at  the  age  of  eighty-six.  Three  years  younger 
than  Madame  Recamier,  she  survived  her  eighteen. 
The  friendship  between  them  was  formed  in  early 
youth,  and  apparently  never  suffered  any  eclipse. 
This  is,  perhaps,  the  more  remarkable,  as  their 
respective  careers  offer  many  points  of  resem- 
blance. Both  were  beauties  and  belles,  with  a 
number  of  acquaintances  in  common.  Both  sought 
and  obtained  social  distinction,  and  both,  through 
their  friends,  exercised  political  influence.  But 
Madame  Recamier's  interest  and  influence  in  poli- 
tics ended  with  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  retirement 


TRANSLATORS  PREFACE.  xi 

from  political  life  upon  the  fall  of  Charles  X.  ; 
whereas  it  was  during  the  reign  of  Louis  Philippe 
that  Madame  de  Boigne's  salon  became  a  centre  of 
influence. 

But  though  both  Madame  de  Boigne  and  Ca- 
mille  Jordan  occupy  a  prominent  place  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages,  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  the 
friend  par  excellence.  This  honor  belongs  to  J. -J. 
Ampere.  He  is  the  central  figure  of  Madame 
Lenormant's  second  volume  of  reminisC\  nces,  as 
Chateaubriand  is  of  the  first.  The  two  mtn  are  in 
striking  contrast.  The  one,  vain  and  sentimental, 
egotistical  and  selfish,  is  always  demanding  sacri- 
fices and  making  none  ;  the  other,  frank  and 
natural,  affectionate  and  disinterested,  is  ever  serv- 
ing others  and  forgetting  himself.  Ampere's  de- 
votion for  thirty  years  to  Madame  Recamier  is 
even  more  exceptional  than  that  of  Ballanche,  who, 
philosopher  and  good  man  as  he  was,  had  no  social 
graces,  and  few  temptations  to  lure  him  away  from 
his  snug  corner  at  Madame  Recamier's  fireside  ; 
whereas  Ampere,  young,  witty,  and  in  every  way  at- 
tractive, was  universally  courted,  —  a  favorite  with 
men  as  well  as  with  women.  Alexis  de  Tocque- 
ville,  for  example,  whose  letters  are  an  interesting 
feature  of  this  volume,  had  a  peculiarly  strong 
friendship  for  Ampere. 

Strong  and  life-long   friendships,   however,   are 


xii  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

very  chaTacteristic  of  the  French,  and  in  this  re- 
spect Ampere  is  a  typical  Frenchman.  One  secret 
of  these  enduring  attachments  it  is  not  difficult  to 
discover ;  it  lies  partly  in  the  inborn  courtesy  of 
the  nation  which  makes  them  shrink  from  saying 
disagreeable  things,  and  partly  in  their  habit  of  say- 
ing kind  and  gracious  ones.  They  are  not  afraid 
of  being  demonstrative.  Of  this,  the  letters  pub- 
lished by  Madame  Lenormant  offer  a  striking  illus- 
tration. No  one  can  read  them  without  being 
impressed  with  their  uniformly  kind  and  affection- 
ate tone.  An  Englishman  or  an  American  would, 
perhaps,  hesitate  to  write  such  loving  letters  to 
one  of  his  own  sex,  as  De  Tocqueville  writes  to 
Ampere  ;  and  yet  there  is  little  doubt  that  such 
frank  and  hearty  expressions  of  interest  and  affec- 
tion bound  the  two  more  closely  together  and 
cemented  their  friendship. 

Another  fine  national  trait  which  the  character 
of  Ampere  strikingly  illustrates  is  filial  respect  and 
devotion.  The  loyalty,  the  beauty  of  this  relation- 
ship is  the  one  thing,  above  all  others,  which  sweet- 
ens and  sanctifies  French  homes.  So  far  is  this 
allegiance  of  the  child  to  the  parent  and  the  parent 
to  the  child  carried,  and  so  highly  is  it  estimated, 
that  one  might  almost  be  justified  in  styling  it  the 
national  religion.  As  a  sentiment,  it  pervades  all 
their  literature  ;  sometimes,  perhaps,  in  their  novels 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE.  xui 

and  plays  degenerating  into  a  morbid  sentimen- 
tality. 

But  it  is  neither  to  their  fictitious  literature,  and 
still  less  to  the  metropolitan  life  of  Paris,  that  we 
must  look  for  a  correct  idea  of  the  best  phases  of 
French  life  and  character.  If  we  are  to  appreciate 
more  justly  the  domestic  virtues  of  this  enigmatical 
people,  —  a  people  of  genius,  and  heir,  therefore, 
to  all  the  follies  as  well  as  great  capabilities  of 
genius,  —  we  must  know  more  of  the  lives  of  the 
nobles  in  the  provinces,  of  the  homes  of  the  bour- 
geoisie ;  we  must  go  to  such  books  as  the  me- 
moirs of  Madame  de  Montague  and  Madame  de 
Lafayette  ;  such  journals  as  those  of  Eugenie  de 
Guerin,  of  Andre-Marie  Ampere.  And  among 
works  of  this  class,  few  are  more  suggestive  than 
the  present  volume. 

I.  M.  W. 

May,  1876. 


AUTHOR'S    PREFACE. 


TT /"HEN  in  publishing,  twelve  years  ago,  the 
"  Memoirs  and  Correspondence  of  Mme. 
Recamier,"  I  attempted  to  draw  a  faithful  portrait 
of  that  noble  and  incomparable  person,  I  was  well 
aware  that  the  picture  would  have  been  more 
striking,  more  life-like,  if,  instead  of  printing  the 
letters  which  w^ere  addressed  to  her,  I  had  given 
those  she  herself  wrote. 

The  letters  of  her  friends  were  only  the  mirror 
in  which  her  soul  and  features  were  reflected, 
whilst  her  own  letters  would  have  set  before  us 
the  woman  herself.  But  I  had  then  at  my  dis- 
posal only  my  own  correspondence  with  Mme. 
Recamier  ;  these  letters,  few  in  number,  —  for 
we  were  rarely  separated,  —  were  of  too  private 
a  nature  for  me  not  to  feel  reluctant  to  publish 
them. 

Twenty-two  years,  alas !  have  run  their  course 
since  she  passed  away,  —  that  finished  type  of 
grace  and  purity,  whose  seductiveness  was  due  as 


XVI  AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 

much  to  goodness  of  heart,  strength  and  sincerity 
of  character,  as  to  dazzling  beauty. 

Of  the  brilliant  circle  of  devoted  friends  who 
composed  her  train  —  we  may  say  her  court — very 
few  survive  ;  death  has  cut  down  almost  all  who 
once  frequented  the  salon  of  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois, 
and  it  is  to  this  sad  circumstance  that  I  owe  the 
letters  of  Mme.  Recamier  which  have  since  come 
into  my  hands. 

Their  publication  to-day,  together  with  many 
other  letters  also  hitherto  unpublished,  will  make 
better  known  and  more  and  more  appreciated  that 
vanished  world,  that  charming  circle,  of  which 
nothing  in  the  society  of  to-day  can  give  any  idea, 
and  where  noble  thoughts,  refined  tastes,  and  en- 
tire independence  of  character,  found  expression 
in  a  language  full  of  elegance  and  courtesy. 

In  publishing  these  letters,  some  definite  plan 
was  necessary ;  I  have  chosen  that  which  seemed 
to  me  the  most  natural,  and  have  disposed  in  chro- 
nological order  the  several  intimacies  of  Mme.  Re- 
camier, so  as  to  exhibit  her  surrounded  in  turn  by 
the  friends  of  her  youth  and  those  of  her  riper 
years. 

Unless  a  reason  were  given  for  the  omission,  my 
readers  might  properly  be  surprised  at  finding  no 
letters  nor  any  personal  details  in  this  volume,  other 
than  those  already  pubUshed,  of  the  man  who,  so 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE.  XVU 

long  as  his  life  lasted,  was  bound  to  Mme.  Recamier 
by  the  deepest  attachment,  and  a  devotion  as  ex- 
alted as  it  was  disinterested ;  namely,  the  phi- 
losopher Ballanche.  Certain  it  is,  that  his  entire 
self-abnegation  made  him  the  wilHng  slave  of  her 
who  was  to  him  the  personification  of  all  that  is 
beautiful  and  noble  upon  earth,  and  humanity  alone 
was  the  rival  of  Mme.  Recamier  in  the  heart  of 
Ballanche.  In  return,  she  accorded  him  a  confi- 
dence without  limit ;  and  the  place  he  occupied  in 
her  life  was  a  large  one.  M.  Victor  de  Laprade, 
the  friend  and  disciple  of  Ballanche,  is  preparing 
a  complete  edition  of  the  works  of  the  Lyonese 
philosopher,  which  will  contain,  besides  his  unpub- 
lished writings,  a  volume  of  correspondence.  I 
have  gladly  furnished  him  with  all  the  letters  in 
my  possession. 

Witli  regard  to  the  correspondence  carried  on 
under  the  first  Empire,  the  reader  will  doubtless 
be  struck  by  the  degree  of  repression  the  vexatious 
tyranny  of  the  Imperial  police  succeeded  in  exerting 
upon  even  the  boldest  spirits.  The  certainty  that 
every  word  would  be  read  and  commented  upon 
with  a  jealous  and  paltry  suspicion,  caused  every 
one  to  be  extremely  reserved  even  with  their  most 
intimate  friends.  The  word  exile  is  rarely  pro- 
nounced by  those  who  had  braved  the  peril  and 
were  paying   the  penalty ;    they  seldom,  if  ever, 

b 


xvm  AUTHOR'S    PREFACE. 

speak  of  political  events.  M.  de  Montmorency,  ac- 
tively and  ardently  devoted  as  he  was  to  the  cause 
of  the  imprisoned  Sovereign  Pontiff,  makes  not  a 
single  allusion  to  the  situation  of  Pius  VII. 

Such  facts  as  these  make  it  easier  to  understand 
Mme.  de  Stael's  passionate  longing  to  escape  be- 
yond the  reach  of  this  pneumatical  administrative 
machine,  under  which  a  hand  of  iron  reduced  all 
to  silence. 


CONTENTS. 


PART    I. 

Madame  R]£cami£r  and  the  Friends  of  her  Yocth. 

Paqk 

Camille  Jordan  and  Pierre  Edouard  Lemontey.  —  Notes  from  Mrae. 
Eecamier  to  Camille  Jordan.  —  Letter  from  Mme.  de  Stael. — 
Mme.  Recamier  to  Mme.  de  Stael.  —  Letters  from  Camille  Jor- 
dan. —  His  marriage.  —  Letters  from  M.  de  Montmorency  and 
Mme.  de  Stael  to  Mme.  Recamier.  —  Letters  from  Camille  Jordan 
and  Lemontey. — Mme.  Recamier  to  Camille  Jordan.  —  Letter 
from  Camille  Jordan. — Death  of  Mme.  Recamier's  mother. — 
Mme.  Recamier's  journey  to  Switzerland. — Accident  on  the 
road. — Letters  from  M.  de  Montmorency  and  Lemontey.  —  Let- 
ters from  Camille  Jordan  to  Mme.  Recamier  and  Mme.  de  Stael.  — 
Letters  from  the  Baron  de  Vogt.  —  Countess  de  Boigne  to  Mme. 
Recamier.  —  Exile  of  Mme.  Recamier.  —  Letters  from  M.  de 
Montmorency,  M.  Recamier,  and  Mme.  de  Stael.  —  Letters  to 
Mme.  Recamier  at  Chalons  from  Lemontey,  M.  de  Montmorency, 
Mme.  de  Boigne,  Camille  Jordan,  and  Adrieu  de  Montmorency.  — 
Mme.  Recamier's  change  of  residence  to  Lyons.  —  Letters  from 
Camille  Jordan  and  M.  de  Montmorency.  —  Her  trip  to  Italy.  — 
Letters  from  Milan  and  Rome  to  Camille  Jordan  and  Mme.  Delphin. 

—  Return  to  Paris.  —  Letters  from  Camille  Jordan.  —  His  death   .  113 

PART    II. 

Letters  of  Mme.  Recamier  to  her  Niece. 

Her  niece's  account  of  her  parents.  — Adoption  by  Mme.  Recamier. — 
Arrival  in  Paris. — Visit  to  Coppet. — Mme.  Recamier's  exile. — 
Letter  from  M.  Recamier.  —  Education  of  Mme.  Recamier's  niece. 

—  Anecdote  of  Lemontey  and  Mme.  de  Genlis. — Notes  from 
Mme.  Recamier  to  her  niece.  —  Trip  to  Italy.  —  Mme.  Recamier 
to  Mme.  Delphin.  —  Marriage  of  her  niece  to  M.  Lenormant.  — 
Letters  from  Mme.  Recamier  and  Ballanche  to  Mme.  Lenormant  .  155 


XX  CONTENTS. 

PART    III. 

Jean-Jacques  AairfeKE  a^d  tue  Abbaye-aux-Bois. 

Pagk 

Childhood  of  J. -J.  Ampere. — Sketch  of  his  father.  —  Andi-e-Marie 
Ampere. —  Education  and  youth  of  J.-J.  Ampere.  — The  de  .lus- 
sieus.  —  Ampere's  presentation  to  Mme.  Recamier. — J.-J.  Ampere 
to  Mme.  liecamier.  —  Journey  to  Italy.  —  Queen  Horteuse  and 
the  Bonaparte  family.  — Ampiire's  return  to  Paris.  — Letters  from 
Mme.  Kecamier  to  J.-J.  Ampere. — M.  de  Chateaubriand. — Mile. 
Ouvier.  —  Ampere  at  the  University  of  Bonn.  —  Correspondence 
of  Amp6re  and  Ch.  Lenormant.  —  Letters  from  Mme.  Kecamier.  — 
Goethe.  —  Ampere's  trip  to  Denmark,  Norway,  and  Sweden. — 
lieturn  to  Paris.  —  Mamage  of  his  sister.  —  Letters  from  Mme.  Ke- 
camier at  Dieppe  to  J.-J.  Ampere.  — M.  Merim6e.  — Letters  of  M. 
Merimee  to  Mme.  Recamier.  —  Mme.  Kecamier  to  J.-J.  Ampfere. — 
Ampere  at  Marseilles.  —  Ch.  Lenormant  to  J.-J.  Ampere.  —  Mme. 
Recamier  to  J.-J.  Amp6re.  —  Ampere  and  the  Normal  School.  — 
Professorship  at  the  College  de  France.  —  Sainte-Beuve. — J.-J. 
Ampere  to  Mme.  Lenormant.  —  M.  Guizot. — Letters  from  Mme. 
Recamier  to  J.-J.  Ampere. — Death  of  Andre-Mai-ie  Ampfere. — 
Travels  of  Ampere.  — "Voyage  Dantesque."  — Journey  in  Greece 
and  Asia  Minor.  —  Ampere  elected  member  of  the  Academic  des 
Inscriptions.  — Alexis  de  Tocqueville.  —  Lafayette.  — La  Grange. 

—  Letters  from  De  Tocqueville.  —  Frederic  Ozanam.  —  Literary 
labors  of  Ampere. -^  Journey  to  Egypt.  —  ]\Iehemet-Ali. — J.-J. 
Ampere  at  Cairo  to  Mme.  Recamier. — Illness  of  Ampere.  —  His 
return  to  France. — Letters  from  Mme.  Recamier  and  Ballanche 
to  Ampere. — His  convalescence.  —  M.  Mohl. — Viscountess  de 
Noailles.  — M.  de  Lomdnie.  — Election  of  Ampfere  to  the  French 
Academy.  —  Blindness  of  Mme.  Recamier.  —  Death  of  Ballanche. 

—  Death  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand.  —  His  funeral  obsequies.  —  Mme 
de  Boigne  to  Mme.  R6camier.  —  Death  of  Mme.  Recamier. — Am- 
pere's journey  to  Spain.  —  Stay  at  Sorrento.  —  Journey  to  Amer- 
ica.—  "Promenade  en  Ameriquc." — Death  of  the  Viscountess 
de  Noailles.  —  Letters  from  J.-J.  Ampere  to  the  Duchess  de  Mouchj-. 

—  Ampere  and  the  Cheuvrcux  family.  —  Letters  of  Ampire  to  the 
Duchess  de  Mouchj'.  —  "Histoire  Romaine  a  Rome."  —  Alexis  de 
Tocqueville  to  J.-J.  Ampere.  — J.  J.  Ampere  to  the  Duchess  de 
Mouchy.  —  Alexis  de  Tocqueville  to  J.-J.  Ampere.  —  Death  of 
Alexis  de  Tocqueville. — Death  of  JIme.  Guillemin.  —  Death  of 
Ch.  Lenormant.  —  Religious  faith  of  Amp6re.  —  J.  -J.  Ampere  to 
Mme.  Lenormant. — Death  of  Ampere 281 


PART    I. 

MADAME    RECAMIER    AND    THE    FRIENDS   OF 
HER   YOUTH. 


■pROMINENT  among  Mme.  Recamier's  early  friends 
-^  were  two  natives  of  Lyons,  —  Camille  Jordan 
and  Pierre  Edouard  Lemontey.  Both  were  men  of 
distinguished  ability,  though  totally  unlike  in  char- 
acter. Both,  also,  were  members  of  the  Council  of 
Five  Hundred  when,  in  1797,  they  were  admitted  to 
the  house  of  M.  Recamier,  whose  eminently  hospitable 
doors  opened  with  eager  cordiality  to  his  fellow-towns- 
men of  Lyons.  Camille  Jordan  probably  owed  his  in- 
troduction to  Degerando ;  the  two  had  been  like  broth- 
ers from  childhood,  and  their  life-long  friendship  neither 
time  nor  absence,  nor  marked  divergencies  of  opinion 
and  conduct,  had  ever  power  to  chill. 

Lemontey  had  many  fine  qualities.  He  was  a  stead- 
fast friend,  and  pei-fectly  trustworthy  in  all  the  relations 
of  life ;  but,  though  a  man  of  superior  mind  and  incon- 
testable talent,  he  was  imbued  with  a  scepticism  little  in 
harmony  with  the  confiding  and  enthusiastic  temper  of 
the  young  and  beautiful  girl  now  four  years  married  to 
1  ▲ 


2  MADAME    RECAMIER 

M.  R^camier.  Political  convictions  he  had  none,  nor 
any  religious  belief;  men  and  events  he  judged  with  a 
mocking  irony,  which,  while  it  gave  great  piquancy  to 
his  words,  did  not  prevent  him  from  being  always  very 
ready  to  serve  his  friends.  His  avarice  had  passed  into 
a  proverb,  and  he  had  no  elegance  either  of  manner  or 
appearance.  In  conversation  his  language  often  offended 
against  good  taste,  sometimes  even  degenerating  into 
coarseness ;  but  his  judgment  in  regard  to  literary  mat- 
ters was  keen  and  correct,  and  his  advice  on  such  subjects 
always  sound.  Mme.  de  Stael  welcomed  him  gladly  to 
her  house,  and  was  fond  of  consulting  him ;  and  in  several 
of  her  letters  to  Mme.  Recamier  it  will  be  observed  that 
she  begs  the  latter  to  urge  him  to  visit  her  both  at 
Coppet  and  AuxeiTe.  During  all  my  childhood  I  used 
to  see  Lemontey  every  Saturday,  as  he  came  regularly 
to  dine  with  my  uncle,  M.  Recamier.  This  habit,  to 
which  he  faithfully  adhered  until  his  death  in  1826,  dates 
back  to  the  remote  period  when  he  came  to  Paris  to 
take  his  seat  in  the  Council  of  the  Five  Hundred. 

Mme.  Recamier  had  a  sincere  regard  for  Lemontey, 
but  the  affection  she  felt  for  Camille  Jordan  was  much 
stronger.  I  do  not  purpose  to  relate  here  the  life 
of  the  eloquent  and  intreisid  patriot,  whom  the  history 
of  our  social  and  parliamentary  struggles  "  will  never 
find  in  the  ranks  of  the  victors."  I  would  rather  re- 
fer the  reader  to  Ballanche's  noble  eulogy ;  also  to  the 
brilliant  article  which  M.  Sainte-Beuve  devoted  to 
him  in  the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,"  still  vividly 
remembered  by  the  public.     In  this  article  the  able 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.         3 

critic  not  only  appreciates,  with  his  usual  acuteness, 
the  charming  originality  of  the  translator  of  Klopstock, 
and  the  talent  of  the  political  orator;  but  —  what  we 
had,  perhaps,  less  right  to  expect  —  he  also  does  full 
justice  to  the  independence  and  patriotism  of  this 
champion  of  liberty. 

Barely  escaping  arrest,  through  the  devotion  of  his 
friends,  at  the  coiq:)  cVetat  of  Fructidor,  Caraille  Jordan 
succeeded  in  reaching  Switzerland  in  company  with  M. 
Degerando,  with  whom  he  afterward  visited  Germany. 
It  was  during  this  forced  emigration  that  he  formed 
a  friendship  with  Matthieu  de  Montmorency.  Re- 
turning to  France  in  1800,  after  a  sojourn  in  England, 
he  met  again  in  Paris  Mme.  Recamier,  with  whom  he 
had  been  greatly  charmed  three  years  before,  and  who 
was  now  more  brilliant  and  more  sought  after  than 
ever.  Henceforth  a  close  intimacy  was  established  be- 
tween Mme.  de  Stael,  Matthieu  and  Adrien  de  Mont- 
morency, and  Camille  Jordan,  who,  with  M.  and  Mme. 
Degerando,  formed  part  of  the  intimate  circle  of  friends 
that  gathered  daily  around  Mme.  Recamier,  whether 
at  Clichy,  Saint-Brice,  or  Paris.  It  was  now,  too,  that 
letters  and  notes  began  to  be  exchanged  between  her 
and  Camille  Jordan,  of  which  a  few  only  have  escaped 
destruction. 

Mme.  Recamier  felt  a  very  deep  friendship  for 
Camille  Jordan  ;  he  inspired  her  with  both  esteem  and 
confidence.  Like  Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  though 
in  a  less  degree,  he  acted  toward  her  the  part  of  a 
Mentor ;   striving  to  counteract  the   influence  of  the 


4  MADAiME    R^CAMIER 

intoxicating  homage  paid  her  in  society,  and  to  cure 
her  of  that  imperious  desire  to  please  which  she  had 
from  her  birth,  together  with  all  the  natural  gifts 
which  made  pleasing  so  easy  to  her. 

Few  men  with  the  great  qualities  and  rigid  virtues 
of  Camille  Jordan  have  been  so  charming  and  en- 
gaging in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life.  His  original 
turn  of  mind,  his  enthusiasm,  his  energy,  the  shrewd- 
ness of  his  remarks,  a  certain  simplicity  and  candor,  — 
in  short,  every  thing  about  him  was  attractive,  even  to 
the  somewhat  provincial  awkwardness  which  he  never 
quite  overcame.  M.  Sainte-Beuve  has  very  justly  no- 
ticed a  peculiarity  common  to  all  the  natives  of  Lyons, 
—  a  flavor  of  the  soil,  so  to  say,  —  which  we  find  in  all 
Camille  Jordan's  contemporaries,  however  unlike  in 
other  respects.  M.  Sainte-Beuve  defines  it  thus  :  "A 
certain  stock  of  beliefs,  of  sentiments,  of  moral  habits, 
of  local  patriotism,  of  religiosity  and  affectuosity,  which 
holds  its  own  amid  the  general  dwindling  away  and 
shrivelling  up  of  men's  souls." 

In  inserting  here  two  notes  from  Mme.  Recamier  to 
Camille  Jordan,  written  in  the  early  days  of  their  inti- 
macy, it  seems  proper  to  forestall  the  surprise  which, 
doubtless,  some  readers  will  experience,  on  seeing  a 
very  young  woman  address  by  his  Christian  name 
one  who  is  not  a  relative,  while  he  replies  in  the  same 
style.  This  use  of  the  Christian  name  was  adopted  by 
the  whole  circle,  and  occurs  in  conjunction  with  forms 
implying  the  most  profound  deference  and  respect. 
Mme.  de  Stael  never  speaks  of  M.  de  Montmorency  nor 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.         6 

addresses  him  except  by  the  name  of  Matthieu.  Mme. 
de  Boigne  does  the  same  in  the  case  of  Adrien  de 
Montmorency,  who,  in  his  turn,  calls  her  Adele.  All 
the  guests  at  Coppet  speak  of  and  to  Mme.  R^camier  as 
Juliette.  So  with  Camille  Jordan,  whom  they  all  call 
Camille ;  it  is  the  same  with  Benjamin  Constant  and 
Prosper  de  Barante,  and  yet  assuredly,  in  spite  of  this 
custom,  now  out  of  fashion,  the  language  of  this  select 
circle  was  neither  familiar  nor  trivial.-^ 

HUE.   BtCAMIER   TO    CAMILLE  JORDAN. 

"1801. 

"Deak  Camille,  —  I  very  much  regret  not  seeing 
you  to-day.  I  am  obliged  to  accompany  mamma  to 
Cambacer^s's,  and  afterward  I  go  into  the  country. 

"  If  I  do  not  see  you  in  a  day  or  two,  I  shall  go  to 
look  for  you  at  Meudon.^  A  thousand  affectionate  re- 
membrances and  regards  to  you  and  your  friends." 


"  1801, 

"  Dear    Camille,  —  I  send    you   the   invitations, 

which  I  did  not  know  how  to  address.     I  fear  it  may 

be  too  late :  do  the  best  you  can.     I  shall  see  you  this 

evening,  but  I  shall  see  you  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd. 


1  In  this  connection  it  is  well  to  call  attention  to  the  fact 
(necessarily  lost  sight  of  in  an  English  translation)  that  though 
this  circle  of  friends  call  each  other  by  their  Christian  names,  they 
never  employ  the  aifectionate  and  familiar  "  tu,"  but  always 
"  vous."  Among  Mme.  Ee'camier's  correspondents,  the  only  one 
who  uses  the  "  tu  "  in  addressing  her  is  M.  Recamier.  —  Tk. 

^  At  the  Deg^randos'. 


6  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

I  liked  much  better  my  little  room  at  Meudon,  and  the 
rambles  among  the  ruins." 

Allusion  is  here  made,  as  we  see,  to  one  of  those 
fetes  which  Mme.  Recamier  was  in  the  habit  of  giving, 
and  to  which  the  fashionable  world,  now  just  re- 
organized, and  with  a  thirst  for  pleasure  unquenched 
by  the  saturnalias  of  the  Directory,  came  in  eager 
crowds.  The  peace  of  Luneville,  followed  by  that  of 
Amiens,  had  reopened  France  to  foreigners,  multitudes 
of  whom  flocked  thither  during  the  winters  of  1801  and 
1802. 

A  proof  of  this  we  find  in  the  following  note  from 
Camille  Jordan  to  his  brilliant  friend  :  — 

"  A  certain  Baron  von  Arnim,  a  Prussian,  has  been 
recommended  to  me,  whom  I  should  like  to  have  go  to 
the  Demidoff  ball  to-morrow.  You,  who  reign  over  all 
the  Russias,  can  you  manage  to  get  him  in? 

"  Deg^rando  and  Annette  charge  me  with  most  lov- 
ing messages,  and  beg  you  to  send  your  orphan  boy  to 
the  school. 

"  I  hoped  to  see  you  and  waited  for  you  day  before 
yesterday  at  Lady  Foster's.^  ^^  ^  „ 

Mme.  de  Stael  passed  the  whole  winter  of  1801  in 
Paris ;  and  from  this  time  her  relations  with  Mme.  Re- 
camier took  the  character  of  a  close  intimacy.     Return- 

1  Lady  Elizabeth  Foster,  sister  of  the  Earl  of  Bristol.  Her 
second  liusband  was  the  Duke  of  Devonshire. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.  7 

ing  to  Coppet  in  the  spring,  she  wrote  to  her  friend  on 
the  9th  of  September :  — 

"  Do  you  ever  think,  beautiful  Juliette,  of  a  person 
whom  you  loaded  with  marks  of  interest  last  winter,  and 
who  hopes  to  make  you  renew  them  next  winter  ?    How 
do  you  sway  the  empire  of  beauty  ?    We  accord  you  this 
empire  with  pleasure,  because  you  are  eminently  good ; 
and  it  seems  only  natural  that  so  sweet  a  soul  should 
be   expressed   by   so   charming  a  face.     Of  all  your 
adorers,  you  know  I  prefer  Adrien  de  Montmorency. 
I  have  received  letters  fi-om  Mm  remarkable  for  wit  and 
grace,  and  I  believe  in  the  steadfastness  of  his  affec- 
tions, in  spite  of  the  charm   of  his  manners.     And, 
besides,  this  word  'steadfastness'   is  more  becoming 
for  me,  who  pretend  only  to  a  very  secondary  place  in 
his   heart.     But  you,  who  inspire  all  the  sentiments, 
you  are  exposed  to  the  grand  events  out  of  which  w^e 
make  tragedies  and  romances.     Mine  ^  is  making  prog- 
ress here  at  the  foot  of  the  Alps.     I  hope  you  will  read 
it  with   interest.     I  rather   like   this  occupation.     In 
speaking  of  your  adorers,  I  did  not  mean  to  include 
M.  de  Narbonne ;  ^  it  seems  to  me  he  has  ranged  him- 
self in  the  ranks  of  the  friends ;  if  it  were  not  so,  I  could 
not  have  said  that  I  preferred  any  one  to  him. 

"  Amid  all  these  successes,  you  are,  and  you  will  ever 
remain,  an  angel  of  purity  and  goodness,  worshipped 

1  Her  romance  of  "  Delphine,"  wliich  appeared  in  1802. 
'''  Formerly  minister  of  Louis  XVI.,  aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor 
Napoleon. 


8  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

by  the  devout  as  well  as  by  worldlings.  What  do  your 
devout  ones  say  concerning  the  new  treaty  with  the 
Pope?^  Is  it  quite  orthodox?  We  outside  heretics 
find  it  hard  to  understand  all  this.  Throw  some  liffht 
on  this  rather  singular  medley.  Have  you  again  seen 
the  author  of  '  Atala '  ?  Are  you  still  at  Clichy  ?  I  ask, 
in  short,  for  all  pai'ticulars  respecting  yourself;  I  like  to 
know  what  you  are  doing,  to  make  a  picture  to  myself 
of  the  places  you  inhabit;  must  not  all  memories  of 
you  resolve  themselves  into  pictures?  I  join  to  this 
very  natural  enthusiasm  for  your  rare  personal  ad- 
vantages a  great  fondness  for  your  society.  Kindly 
accept,  I  beg  of  you,  all  I  offer,  and  promise  me  that 
we  shall  see  each  other  often  next  winter." 

To  the  year  1803,  and  evidently  after  the  first  order 
of  exile,  must  be  assigned  these  few  lines  of  Mme.  Re- 
camier  to  Mme.  de  Stael,  which  M.  Sainte-Beuve  dis- 
covered among  the  papers  of  Camille  Jordan,  and  which 
are  here  inserted  as  given  by  him :  — 

"Just  as  I  received  the  note  announcing  your  de- 
parture, another  was  handed  me  from  Junot,  who 
writes :  '  I  have  this  morning  seen  the  Consul ;  he  said 
that  he  consented  to  her  staying  in  France ;  he  was 
even  willing  that  she  should  reside  at  Dijon,  if  that  be 
agreeable  to  her ;  he  even  said  to  me,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  that  if  nothing  new  should  occur  hereafter."  ...     I 

1  The  Concordat  signed  July  17th,  1800,  between  Pius  VH. 
and  the  French  Government. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.         9 

trust  that,  through  her  own  prudence  and  our  earnest 
solicitations,  the  sentence  will  be  completed.' 

"  You,  doubtless,  know  all  this.  As  for  me,  the  hope 
of  soon  seeing  you  again  is  very  necessary  to  console  me 
a  little  for  your  absence.  Do,  as  a  favor,  let  me  know 
your  plans.     I  will  not  forget  the  affair  of  M,  .  .  . 

"  It  is  very  hard  to  get  accustomed  to  not  seeing  you, 
after  having  had  the  pleasure  of  passing  a  few  days 
with  you.  I  am  waiting  to  hear  from  you  with  anxious 
impatience. 

"  Sunday  evening."  "  ^JJlARITl^  R." 


camille  jordan  to  mme.  recamiee, 

"  Saint-Ouen,  1803. 
"  Dear  Juliette,  —  I  left  you  ill,  and  I  am  anxious 
about  your  health  ;  send  me  word,  I  beg  of  you,  by  re- 
turn of  messenger.  I  should  have  called  to  inquire 
yesterday,  but  I  returned  home  at  too  late  an  hour ;  I 
shall  come  to-morrow  the  first  moment  I  am  at  liberty ; 
provided,  indeed,  that  my  visit  do  not  bore  you,  for  the 
doubt  you  felt  of  the  pleasure  your  last  letter  would 
give  me  fills  me  with  a  better-founded  distrust.  Oh, 
that  doubt !  it  went  to  my  heart.  It  will  be  long  Vie- 
fore  I  forgive  you.  But,  no,  I  am  sure  of  interesting 
you,  for  I  shall  speak  to  you  of  Adrien,^  of  the  visit  that 
I  made  him ;  I  will  describe  my  dinner  with  Fox,  where 
mention  was  made   of  you.     I  enclose   the   hospital 


*  Adrien  de  Montmorency. 
1* 


10  MADAME    RJ^CAMIER 

papers,  Avhich  I  carried  off  through  inadvertence ;  I 
hope  you  will  not  forget  the  little  girls,  and  the  charm- 
ing project  so  worthy  of  your  good  heart. 

"  What  has  become  of  the  beautiful  Aline,  and  the 
Portuguese  Yom?inQQ'i  Please  say  something  pleasant 
to  her  from  me.  Tell  her  that  we  beg  her  to  prepare 
her  sweet  voice  for  singing  a  romaunt  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  quite  unknown,  and  with  which  we  are  de- 
lighted. Annette  and  Degerando  be<T  to  be  remem- 
bered  to  you.  Adieu,  dear  Juliette ;  I  love  you  still, 
but  not  as  much  as  I  did  before  our  last  conversa- 
tion. "  C." 

Camilla  Jordan  had  returned  to  Lyons  when  Bona- 
parte held  there  the  Cisalpine  Council,  and  the  First 
Consul  tried  to  attach  huu  to  his  new  government, 
but,  as  Ballanche  tells  us,  "  he  could  not  overcome  the 
repugnance  of  this  man,  whose  chief  characteristic  was 
his  perfect  uprightness,  and  who,  by  the  purity  of  his 
patriotism,  was  rendered  distrustful." 

So  long  as  Bonaparte  was  in  power,  whether  as  Con- 
sul or  as  Emperor,  Camille  Jordan  preferred  to  remain 
in  the  obscurity  of  a  life  of  study.  Of  a  nature  fitted 
for  the  family  affections,  he  married,  and  announced 
his  intention    to   Mrae.   R^camier    in    the    following 

terms :  — 

"  25  Ventose,  year  xii. 
"  (March  15,  1804.) 

"Dkar  Juliette,  —  What  will  be  your  astonish- 
ment! The  irresolute  is  resolved,  the  fickle  one  is 
chained !     I  am  about  to  marry.     I  wed  a  young  lady 


CAMILLE   JORDAN 

from  a  painting  by  Mile.  Godefroi,  engraved  by  MiMer 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       11 

of  Lyons.  I  make  one  of  those  marriages  recommended 
by  relatives,  but  which  the  heart  approves,  —  reason- 
able, but,  at  the  same  time,  attractive.  Unfortunately, 
in  a  romantic  point  of  view,  there  is  money,  and  the 
match  is  a  suitable  one.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
lady  is  young,  sensible,  virtuous,  charming.  She  seems 
to  be  very  fond  of  me,  and,  unimpressionable  as  I  am, 
I  let  myself  be  touched  by  it.  Your  inquisitive  friend- 
ship would  like,  no  doubt,  farther  details.  You  shall  not 
have  them ;  you  must  come  yourself  and  get  them.  I 
sigh  more  ardently  than  ever  for  your  coming.  I  have 
the  greatest  desire  that  you  should  know  and  love  her. 
As  for  her,  I  am  very  sure  that  she  will  love  you ;  that 
our  hearts,  which  accord  so  well,  will  agree  about 
Juliette,  —  will  cherish  together  such  ineffable  good- 
ness and  grace.  Please  announce  my  marriage  for  me 
to  your  husband ;  for  I  feel  very  sure  of  the  friendly 
interest  his  kind  heart  will  take  in  it.  Tell  him  that  it 
is  Mile.  Magnieunin,  of  Lyons ;  but  probably  he  does 
not  know  her. 

"  I  beg  of  you  also  to  inform  your  mother,  father, 
and  all  your  family,  at  the  same  time  remembering  me 
kindly  to  them  all.     Write  to  me  soon.  „  y-,    y  » 

The  marriage  of  Camille  Jordan,  and  the  domestic 
happiness  it  brought  him,  did  not  prevent  his  coming 
occasionally  to  Paiis.  He  was  there  in  1806,  during 
the  summer  which  Mme.  de  Stael  passed  chiefly  at  the 
chateau  of  Vincelles,  near  Auxerre.  All  the  friends 
of  the   noble  exile   made   a  pilgrimage    to  Vincelles. 


12  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  who  was  among  the  first 
comers,  wrote  to  hasten  the  arrival  of  Madame  R(S- 
camier,  who  was  impatiently  expected. 

"ViNCELLES,   NEAR   AuXERRE, 

"  Saturday  evening,  May  10. 

"There  must  be  few  persons  less  accustomed  than 
the  amiable  Juliette  to  see  the  letters  they  write  re- 
main for  days  unanswered.  Pardon  me  if  I  have  not 
immediately  replied  to  yours,  which  was  very  kind, 
though  very  hasty.  Pardon,  not  me,  who  truly  am  not 
to  blame,  but  the  singular  and  very  disagreeable  habit  of 
the  post  of  delaying  all  our  letters  for  Auxerre  by  one 
mail.  It  is  to  be  desired,  at  least,  that  the  bureau  for  the 
examination  and  reading  of  letters  should  be  a  little 
more  prompt  in  the  performance  of  their  functions ;  and 
if  they  read  this  I  hope  they  will  profit  by  the  advice. 
Yours  did  not  reach  me  until  this  very  day  at  four 
o'clock.  Though  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  forget 
the  date,  —  an  omission  which  might  sometimes  upset 
the  calculations  of  poor  country  folk,  —  yet,  according 
to  mine,  judging  by  what  they  told  me  of  your  letter, 
you  must  have  written  it  on  Wednesday ;  and  here  we 
are  already  at  the  very  end  of  that  week  whicli  you 
proposed  to  spend  in  the  peaceable  and  lonely  retreat 
of  Vincelles.  The  inhabitants  would  be  too  sorry  if 
any  thing  should  happen  to  frustrate  your  good  inten- 
tions. There  is  a  little  Albertine  here  whose  face  lights 
up  with  joy  at  the  thought  of  seeing  you.  The  lady  of 
the  house  counts  greatly  upon  it,  and  would  tell  you  to 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       13 

come  at  any  time  when  most  convenient  to  yourself 
rather  than  not  come  at  all.  But,  on  account  of  a  visit 
which  I  purpose  making  the  first  of  the  week  to  a 
family  in  the  neighborhood,  —  an  invalid  relation  in 
whom  you  are  interested,  as  in  all  unhappy  ones,  —  and 
a  little  business  errand  in  the  direction  of  Briare  which 
she  has  in  view,  we  would  propose  to  you  to  arrive  on 
Saturday  morning  at  the  latest,  in  company  with  the 
young  Albert,^  who  so  well  remembered  all  your  kind- 
nesses, and  was  most  eager  to  go  and  claim  them  when 
he  went  to  Paris,  and  who  will  be  equally  proud  to 
escort  you  here,  and  inconsolable  to  lose  any  of  your 
visit.  His  Mentor,^  who  will  have  the  honor  of  seeing 
you,  is  a  very  intellectual  and  distinguished  German, 
who  will  also  be  at  your  service.  I  see  that  you  also 
ask  me  to  reply  to  your  question  respecting  another 
gentleman  of  my  acquaintance.®  I  am  very  much  em- 
barrassed ;  for  nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure 
than  to  see  him,  and  be  with  him  here  among  such 
agreeable  and  intimate  friends.  Our  friend  wishes  it 
very  much.  She  has  already  tried  to  bring  me  over  to 
her  views ;  and  maintains  that  the  company  of  the  young 
man  and  his  Mentor  renders  the  visit  more  easy  and 
more  proper.  But  I  still  fear  that  it  cannot  be.  My 
better  judgment  prevails  over  my  own  inclination,  and, 
in  spite  of  myself,  I  conscientiously  find  there  are  objec- 

'  Albert,  second  son  of  Mme.  de  Stael. 
^  Schlegel. 

'  Adrien  de  Montmorency,  who  asked  leave  to  come  to  Vin/ 
celles. 


14  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

tions,  between  which  and  his  own  inclinations  I  leave 
Adrien's  own  delicacy  to  be  the  judge.  I  fear,  above 
all,  the  small  gossip  of  the  public,  and  especially  of  the 
Hotel  de  Luynes.  Pardon,  aimable  Juliette,  this  frank 
severity,  which,  so  it  seems  to  me,  is  obligatory  upon  a 
friend  of  whom  one  asks  advice.  I  fear  that  Adrien 
will  take  it  very  ill  of  me.  Tell  him  I  do  not  dare  to 
write  him  for  this  reason ;  that  we  often  speak  of  him ; 
and  that  I  love  him  with  all  my  heart. 

"  I  perceive  that  I  hare  not  yet  spoken  of  the  first 
piece  of  news  in  your  letter.  It  was  not  new  to  us ; 
we  had  it  directly  through  the  prefect.  But  what 
concern  you  show  in  announcing  it !  You  will  indeed 
be  concerned  when  you  see  with  your  own  eyes  what 
grief  this  persistence  in  ill-will  causes  our  friend.  Ah ! 
no  one  is  so  worthy  as  you  to  be  the  friend  of  misfort- 
une !  Adieu !  I  am  doubly  and  most  sincerely  gratified 
to  hear  of  madame  your  mother's  improvement,  smce 
it  allows  us  to  look  forward  to  such  happy  moments. 
Let  me  count  upon  them  as  certain ;  and  therefore 
insist  upon  your  leaving  Paris  on  Friday,  so  as  to 
arrive  here  as  early  as  possible  on  Saturday.  Why 
not  bring  Camille  with  you  ?  All  at  Vincelles  tender 
you  their  loving  homage.  Can  you  not  let  us  know 
something  about  the  answer,  whatever  it  was,  to  the 
demand  for  liquidation  ?  "  ^ 

Mme.  de  Stael,  wishing  to  join  her  entreaties  to  those 

1  This  refers  to  the  claim  of  Mme.  de  Stael  for  the  two  millions 
advanced  to  the  government  by  M.  Necker. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       15 

of  Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  added  to  his  letter  this 

little  note:  — 

"  AuxEERE,  May  10,  1806. 

"Deak  Juliette,  —  Your  kindness  to  me  is  inex- 
haustible ;  but  will  you  not  give  me  the  unspeakable 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  ?  I  send  you  my  youngest  son, 
who  is  quite  in  love  with  you,  like  the  rest  of  his 
family.  I  rely  upon  you  to  treat  M.  Schlegel  well,  who 
is  much  more  my  friend  than  the  tutor  of  my  children. 
I  have  permission  to  stay  here,  but  I  cannot  stay  long, 
for  it  is  the  saddest  life  imaginable.  There  ai"e  no 
advantages  here  whatsoever  for  the  education  of  the 
children ;  not  a  musician  ;  nothing  in  the  world  but 
the  river  and  the  plain ;  and  I  have  too  melancholy  an 
imagination  to  endure  it.  Get  me  out  of  it  if  you  can. 
Is  not  Murat  still  in  Paris  ?  Cannot  you  interest  him 
in  my  behalf?  I  know  your  powei'S  of  intercession.  I 
prefer  the  indirect  through  you  than  the  direct  by 
myself  Adieu !  beautiful  Juliette ;  I  finish  as  I  be- 
gan,—  let  me  see  you." 

Mme.  Recamier  arrived  at  Vincelles  at  the  time  ap- 
pointed, and  Camille  Jordan  some  weeks  later,  on  his 
way  to  Lyons,  and  after  M.  de  Montmorency  had 
returned  to  Paris.  He  announced  his  coming  in  the 
following  note :  — 

"  Thursday. 

"Dear  Juliette,  — I  have  just  seen  Matthieu,  and 
have  been  much  interested  in  hearing  of  you  and  Ma- 
dame de  Stael ;  but  he  confounds  me  by  saying  that 
you  think  of  leaving  on  Monday.    You  must  certainly 


16  AfADAME    R^CAMIER 

Btay  another  day,  unless  you  wish  to  give  me  the  great- 
est pain,  for  this  is  ray  itinerary.  I  cannot  leave  on 
Saturday,  as  I  had  hoped  to  do,  but  I  shall  start  on 
Sunday  morninc^,  and  shall  reach  Auxerre  at  one 
o'clock.  I  shall  be  at  your  house  by  five,  remain  there 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  leave  again  on  Tuesday.  You 
can  imagine  how  hard  it  would  be  not  to  see  you  there 
at  least  for  one  evening.  I  ask  for  this  little  delay 
with  the  more  confidence  as  I  know  your  mother  is 
better.  I  know  it  through  Mme.  Michel,  who  sent  her 
physician  to  her,  and  only  an  hour  since  had  a  good 
account  of  her. 

"  If  Mme.  de  Stael  has  a  cabriolet  disengaged,  she 
will  do  me  a  favor  if  she  will  send  it  to  meet  me  at  two 
o'clock  at  the  '  Leopard '  inn.  If  not,  I  have  no  doubt 
that  I  shall  be  able  easily  to  get  a  carriage.  Mme.  de 
Stael  will  certainly  be  grateful  to  me  for  endeavoring 
to  prolong  the  very  sweet  consolation  she  finds  in  your 
society.  I  should  also  be  glad  if  my  visit  could  be  of 
any  interest  to  her.  At  all  events,  she  will  meet  again 
one  of  those  who  most  deeply  feel  her  sufierings. 
Adieu,  dear  Juliette !  grant  my  request ;  add  this  mark 
of  afiection  to  the  many  others  I  have  received  from 
you." 

A  few  lines  from  Matthieu  de  Montmorency  to  their 

common  friend   seconded    the   entreaties   of    Camille 

Jordan : — 

"  Thursday,  five  o'clock. 

"  Permit  me,  aimahle  Juliette,  to  write  a  few  hasty 

lines  which  will  at  least  prove  to  you  how  much  pleas- 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       17 

ure  I  have  taken  in  executing  your  commissions,  and 
how  much  satisfoction  it  would  give  me  to  be  able  to 
procure  for  you  a  little  tranquillity  in  so  touching  a 
sentiment.  I  went  this  very  day,  at  three  o'clock,  with 
Adrien  to  see  madame  your  mother,  who  was  able  to 
receive  us.  She  had  two  or  three  ladies  with  her.  She 
is  better  to-day,  and  had  taken  quite  a  long  airing  in  a 
sedan  chair.  She  is  feeble  and  very  pale,  but  surely 
no  worse  than  when  you  left.  She  will  be  delighted  to 
see  you  again,  but  she  is  glad  of  your  journey,  as  she 
thinks  it  is  doing  you  good.  Consequently,  I  did  not 
give  her  any  reason  to  expect  you  before  the  middle 
of  next  week.  You  can,  therefore,  grant  the  humble 
petition  of  Camille,  who  cannot  arrive  before  Monday 
to  dinner,  and  who  entreats  you  to  wait  for  him.  You 
will  not  say  him  nay  ;  and  by  doing  him  this  kindness 
you  will  be  able  to  lavish  a  few  more  attentions  upon 
your  unhnppy  friend;  I  fully  appreciate  how  charming 
and  kind  you  have  been  to  her.  I  have  much  to  tell 
and  to  ask  upon  your  return.  Your  little  notes  have 
been  delivered  according  to  your  orders.  I  am  yours, 
with  the  most  affectionate  respect." 

Lemontey  also  made  the  journey  to  Auxerre,  and 
announced  his  coming  by  a  note,  bearing  no  date  ex- 
cept the  day  of  the  week :  — - 

"  Saturday. 

"  So  it  does  not  suffice  you,  aimahle  heroine,  to  em- 
bellish the  places  where  you  are,  you  must  needs  sadden 
those  where  you  are  not. 


18  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

"  I  set  out  on  Monday  by  dawn  and  by  diligence, 
and  on  Tuesday,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  shall 
be  at  Auxerre.  I  shall  go  to-morrow  to  say  good-by 
to  your  mother,  so  that  I  may  bring  you  the  freshest 
news  of  her. 

"  Do  me  the  favor  to  lay  my  respects  at  the  feet  of 
the  illustrious  exile.  It  is  sweet  to  inspire  so  general 
an  interest ;  it  is  a  treasure-house  of  consolation  upon 
which  Mme.  de  Stael  can  draw  largely  without  fear  of 
seeing  it  exhausted.  I  will  say  the  same  of  the  senti- 
ments I  have  vowed  to  you  for  life.  ^^  j  „ 

The  failure  of  the  banking-house  of  M.  R^camier, 
which  took  place  this  same  year,  could  not  be  a  matter 
of  indifference  to  Camille  Jordan.  He  hastened  to  ex- 
press his  sympathy  to  the  brave  woman  who  bore 
without  flinching  this  first  stroke  of  misfortune  :  — 

"  Lyons,  Oct.  28,  1806. 

"Deab  Juliette,  —  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you 
how  deeply  I  am  affected  by  your  misfortunes  and 
those  of  your  husband.  When  they  who  least  know 
you  are  moved  by  them,  judge  how  he  must  feel  who 
is  bound  to  you  by  so  many  ties.  I  heard  the  news 
only  two  days  ago,  and  have  not  yet  recovered  from 
the  shock.  My  thoughts  never  leave  you ;  I  wander  in 
spirit  through  that  house ;  I  go  from  your  husband  to 
yourself;  I  mingle  my  tears  with  yours.  Ah !  in  spite  of 
the  distance  and  my  new  ties,  I  should  certainly  have 
hastened  to  you  at  once  had  I  thought  my  presence  ol 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       19 

use ;  had  I  not  known  that  you  were  surrounded  with 
sympathizing  friends.  But  I  hear  that  every  consola- 
tion that  friendship  and  respect  can  offer  is  Lavished 
upon  you  to  the  utmost.  And  just  it  is,  that  they  who 
were  always  doing  good,  who  were  so  generous  in  pros- 
perity, so  compassionate  toward  every  species  of  mis- 
fortune, should  excite  an  interest  so  universal  and  so 
profound.  I  am  told  especially  that  you,  Juliette,  are 
a  model  of  courage,  resignation,  and  disinterestedness ; 
that  it  is  you  who  console  and  sustain  your  husband. 
I  admire,  but  I  am  not  surprised.  I  recognize  her 
whose  elevation  and  nobility  of  character,  under  a 
light-hearted  exterior,  have  always  impressed  me,  and 
upon  whom  it  was  reserved  for  misfortune  to  set  the 
final  seal  of  perfection.  Degerando  writes  to  me  about 
it  with  deep  feeling.  You  will  no  doubt  see  a  great 
deal  of  my  other  self  Let  him  be  my  interpreter  with 
you ;  let  his  attentions  shadow  forth  those  I  would  fain 
pay  you ;  let  his  friendship  make  you  think  of  mine. 

"I  venture  to  add  that  you  would  afford  me,  so  far 
away  from  you  at  this  time,  a  much-needed  consolation 
by  informing  me  yourself  how  you  are,  and  assuring 
me  that  I  am  one  of  the  friends  upon  whom  your  heart 
reposes  with  some  little  comfort,  and  with  perfect  con- 
fidence. 

"  Remember  me  to  your  excellent  husband.  Do  not  fail 
to  tell  him  how  deeply  I  feel  for  him  in  this  misfortune. 
Assure  him  from  me  of  the  high  estimation  (I  know  it 
well)  in  which  he  stands  in  Lyons.  No  one  could  be 
more  beloved,  more  respected,  more  pitied  than  he  is : 


20  MADAME    RJ^CAMIER 

it  is  one  unanimous  concert  of  praise  and  regret ;  and 
every  one  is  convinced  tliat,  wliatevcr  may  be  the 
situation  of  his  affairs,  if  he  does  not  allow  himself  to 
be  cast  down,  but  resumes  himself  their  management, 
he  will,  with  his  activity,  serenity,  and  accustomed  skill, 
very  soon  restore  them  to  a  flourishing  condition. 
Adieu !  I  do  not  cease  to  think  of  you,  and  compass 
you  about  with  the  best  wishes  the  tenderest  fxiend- 
ship  can  bestow." 

Mme.  Recamier  was  not  long  in  replying  to  this 
affectionate  letter :  — 

"  Dear  Camille,"  she  writes,  "  in  the  midst  of  all 
my  troubles  your  letter  has  been  a  very  great  comfort 
to  me.  I  read  it  to  M.  Recamier,  who  is  very  much 
touched  by  your  interest.  The  attachment  of  my 
fiiends  sustains  my  courage.  However  unexpected  my 
misfortunes,  I  have  been  able  to  bear  them  with  resig- 
nation, and  I  have  had  the  satisfaction  of  consoling 
and  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  my  husband  and  family. 
And  should  I  not  also,  dear  Camille,  return  thanks  to 
Heaven,  who,  in  reserving  for  me  such  bitter  trials, 
has  given  me  friends  to  aid  me  in  bearing  them  ?  I 
am  very  sure  that  you  have  regretted  not  being  near 
me  during  this  unhappy  time.  But  must  we  give  up 
all  hope  of  seeing  you  this  winter?  Think  what  a  con- 
solation for  me  it  would  be  to  see  you  here.        ^^  -r  t>  „ 

Misfortune  seemed  bent  upon  pursuing  the  brilliant 
woman  whose  lot  had  been  so  often  the  object  of  envy. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       21 

After  her  husband's  failure,  Mme.  R^camier  had  a  far 
deeper  grief  to  bear  in  the  death  of  a  mother  whom  she 
adored.  Mme.  Bernard,  still  young  and  still  beautiful, 
had  struggled  for  moi'e  than  a  year  with  a  very  painful 
malady,  to  which,  in  spite  of  every  care  and  the  tender 
love  of  her  daughter,  she  succumbed  at  the  end  of 
January,  1807. 

"Dear  Juliette,"  wrote  Camille  Jordan  to  Mme.  Re- 
camier,  on  the  third  of  February,  "  I  have  heard  with 
much  pain  of  the  loss  you  have  sustained.  Though 
so  long  anticipated,  and  softened  in  a  measure  by  the 
thought  of  what  cruel  suffering  a  beloved  being  has 
escaped,  I  fully  understand  what  a  blow  this  is  to  you, 
and  how  such  a  trial,  added  to  other  misfortunes,  leaves 
a  sad  and  dreary  void  in  your  heart.  May  the  deep 
interest  of  all  those  about  you  give  you  at  least  some 
consolation!  Very  true  friends  remain  to  you,  and 
your  sorrows  seem  to  give  new  strength  to  the  affec- 
tion which  binds  them  to  you.  I  dare  trust  that  you 
still  count  mine  among  that  small  number  of  tried 
hearts  upon  which  you  repose  with  perfect  confidence 
and  with  some  satisfaction.  I  beg  you  to  remember 
me  to  M.  Recamier,  also  to  your  cousin  and  Mme.  de 
Catellan.  You  have  not  answered  a  letter  of  mine 
written  some  months  ago,  which  seemed  to  call  for  a 
reply.  I  expect  nothing  from  you  at  present;  but,  at 
least,  let  me  hear  of  you  through  Mme.  de  Catellan, 
that  I  may  learn  that  you  are  not  too  unhappy,  and 
that  you  remember  one  of  your  most  faithful  friends." 


22  MADAME  R£CAMIER 

The  new  and  deep  grief  which  her  mother's  death 
caused  to  Mme.  Rdcamier  greatly  impaired  her  health, 
and  at  midsummer  her  family  and  physician  united  in 
recommending  a  change  of  air.  Her  strong  desire  to 
see  Mme.  de  Stael  moved  her  to  depart.  She  jiro- 
posed  to  make  the  tour  of  Switzerland,  and  set  out  for 
Cojipet  in  July,  in  company  with  Count  Elzear  de  Sa- 
bran,  also  an  intimate  and  very  devoted  friend  of  the 
illustrious  exile.  They  travelled  post,  in  the  carriage 
and  with  the  servants  of  Mme.  Recamier. 

They  had  nearly  reached  their  destination  without 
accident  when,  near  Moret,  where  the  road  winds  along 
the  edge  of  a  high  precipice,  the  carriage,  through  the 
carelessness  of  the  postilion,  was  overturned,  and,  with 
its  occupants,  precipitated  over  the  brink. 

Out  of  four  horses  two  were  killed;  the  postilion 
was  injured  ;  while  the  servant,  who  was  seated  on 
the  box,  had  just  time  to  jump  off  into  the  road, 
shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  As  for  the  travel- 
lers shut  up  inside,  —  Mme.  Recamier,  her  maid,  and 
the  Count  de  Sabran,  —  all  were  more  or  less  bruised 
by  the  terrible  fall,  but  none  seriously  hurt,  though 
Mme.  Recamier  spi'ained  her  foot.  This  accident 
caused  great  excitement  in  Paris  as  well  as  at 
Coppet. 

M.  de  Montmorency  wrote  from  Paris,  the  19th  of 
July :  "  I  thank  God  with  all  my  heart  for  having 
pi'eserved  you,  belle  and  aimahle  Juliette,  from  that 
fi'ightful  dansjer  which  made  us  all  shudder.  For  the 
cross    that,  with   very   proper    feeling,    you   Avish    to 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       23 

erect  in  that  terrible  spot,  I  shall  have  great  respect ;  I 
think  I  shall  make  a  pilgrimage  to  it  some  day.  It 
was  some  noble  sentiment  like  this,  which  God  never 
allows  to  pass  unnoticed,  that  obtained  for  you  His  pro- 
tection in  that  moment  of  peril.  Your  impatience  to 
provide  holy  consolation  for  the  interesting  invalid  ^  at 
Pau  has  already  been  rewarded.  The  Abb^  Fousset 
has  just  sent  to  me  from  Orleans  the  copy  of  a  letter 
which  he  had  written  to  him,  in  which  he  gives  an  ac- 
count of  his  general  confession,  of  his  resignation,  and 
of  all  the  consolations  religion  has  given  him.  The 
good  abbe  desires  that  you  should  be  informed  of  this 
letter. 

"Alphonse  had  suffered  much,  but  in  that  respect 
was  a  little  better,  —  one  dares  say  no  more,  but  let 
us  pray  earnestly  for  him.  His  brother  has  gone  at 
last. 

"Adrien  will  have  heard  with  concern,  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  this  news  from  Moret.  I  have  not  yet  heard 
of  his  arrival. 

"  You  can  judge  whether  my  wishes  and  regrets  do 
not  follow  you  to  that  kindly  and  hospitable  abode  of 
friendship  where  it  would  have  been  so  pleasant  to  go 
this  summer.  For  a  moment  I  thought  it  possible,  but 
I  no  longer  indulge  the  flattering  hope.  A  thousand 
affectionate  regards,  ray  compliments  to  your  fellow- 


J  Prince  Alphonse  Pignatelli,  who,  young  and  handsome,  was 
dying  of  consumption  ;  through  Mrae.  Re'camier's  influence  he  had 
been  brought  to  a  state  of  religious  resignation  which  assuaged  hia 
last  moments. 


24  MADAME  RI^CAMIER 

traveller,  whose  opportunity  of  serving  you  we  must 
all  envy." 

Lemontey  also  wrote  as  follows  :  — 

"  July  13,  1807. 

"  M.  Recamier  has  just  left  me,  after  reading  to  me 
your  letter ;  never  did  reading  seem  longer  and  more 
terrible.  M.  Recamier  exhibited  an  emotion  with  which 
I  deeply  sympathized,  and  that  it  pleased  me  to  see 
him  show.  One  will  never  love  you  feebly ;  it  is  a 
common  law  which  all  the  world  takes  pleasure  in 
obeying. 

"  But  stay ;  are  you  not  endeavoring  to  allay  our  ap- 
prehensions? Is  it  really  true  that  a  simple  sprain  is 
the  only  result  of  so  frightful  an  accident  ?  If  your 
letter  had  not  been  so  explicit,  and,  above  all,  if  M.  de 
SabranJs  had  not  announced  so  positively  your  depart- 
ure for  Geneva,  I  should  have  directly  proposed  to  M. 
Recamier  to  go  to  you  myself,  and  take  with  me  the 
skilful  Richerand ;  but  as  there  seems  to  be  no  doubt 
that  you  are  now  within  reach  of  every  succor  that 
friendship  and  skill  can  afford,  we  must  be  contented 
to  await  with  impatience  the  confirmation  of  your  en- 
tire recovery.  I  dare  no  longer  encourage  you  to 
make  the  tour  of  Switzerland,  as  you  proposed.  The 
very  idea  of  your  carriage  among  the  mountains  makes 
me  shudder.  I  take  pleasure,  however,  in  imagining 
that  this  terrible  accident  will  be  the  end  of  that  ill- 
fortune  which  has  pursued  yoii  for  two  years.  It 
seems  to  me  that  your  first  life  is  ended,  and  that 
Providence,  in  miraculously  preserving  you,  has  given 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       25 

you  a  new  one  which  will  console  you  for  past  mis- 
fortunes. 

'•'■  Adiiexx,  aimahle  Juliette;  dispose  of  me  as  though 
I  belonged  to  you.  Pray  assure  Mme.  de  Stael  of  my 
deep  interest.  I  cannot  commiserate  M.  de  Sabran  for 
his  share  in  an  accident  which  I  envy  him,  but  please 
offer  him  my  congratulations  upon  its  result.  Give  us 
news  of  the  faithful  Joseph.^  I  shall  write  this  very 
moment  to  your  cousin,-  I  trust  that  you  have  had 
reassuring  reports  from  the  Pyrenees."  ^ 

It  is  not  necessary  to  recapitulate  here  all  the  enter- 
tainments, all  the  social  successes  which  awaited  at 
Coppet  her  who  was  there  styled  la  belle  amie.  They 
have  been  sufficiently  detailed  already  in  the  "  Memoirs 
and  Correspondence."  The  summer  of  1807,  owing  to 
the  presence  of  Mme.  Recamier,  was  a  particularly  gay 
one  at  this  chateau,  where  the  influence  of  Mme.  de 
Stael's  genius  diffused  around  her  an  atmosphere  which 
her  guests  found  delightful  to  both  mind  and  heart. 

Mme.  Recamier  was  unwilling  to  quit  the  shores  of 
Lake  Geneva  without  seeing  Camille  Jordan,  whose 
arrival  had  been  expected  in  vain.  She  wrote  to 
him,  therefore,  announcing  her  project  of  stopping  at 
Lyons  on  her  way  to  Paris.  We  have  only  Camille'a 
reply :  — 


1  The  domestic  who  accompanied  Madame  Recamier. 

2  Madame  de  Dalmassy. 

3  i.e.,  from  Prince  Alphonse  Pignatelli. 


2 


26  MADAME  RJ^CAMIER 

"  Lyons,  Sept.  7,  1807. 
"  Dear  Juliette,  —  Upon  returning  from  a  trip  to 
Grenoble,  I  find  your  letter  of  the  27th  of  August.  I 
regret  that  ray  reply  has  been  unavoidably  retarded  for 
a  few  days,  and  I  lose  not  a  moment  to  say  to  you  how 
much  I  am  touched  by  your  persistent  determination 
to  return  by  way  of  Lyons,  and  the  kind  motives  which 
have  actuated  you.  It  is  very  lucky  that  you  have 
advised  me  of  it,  for  I  was  on  the  point  of  starting  for 
our  country  place  at  Bresse,  which  is  ten  leagues  from 
Lyons.  If  necessary,  I  can  postpone  my  departure  for 
a  week,  when  I  must  absolutely  pass  a  fortnight  there 
on  urgent  business.  So  try  to  come  immediately,  or 
else  defer  your  coming  for  three  weeks.  My  Julie, 
who  fully  responds  to  the  liking  you  seem  to  have  for 
her,  shares  my  eagerness  to  see  you ;  and  if  to  love  you 
very  much,  to  suiTound  you  with  every  affectionate  at- 
tention, be  a  welcome  that  will  suffice  and  please  you, 
you  will  surely  be  content  with  ours.  Besides,  you 
must  know  how  much  pleasure  you  will  give  to  all 
your  family,  and  how  charmed  they  were  and  still  are 
with  the  young  and  ingenuous  boarding-school  girl,  not- 
withstanding some  rather  suspicious  intimacies,  which 
made  grave  relatives  shake  their  heads.  As  for  me, 
your  accomplice,  I  congratulate  you  upon  being  at 
Coppet,  and  envy  you,  too.  I  would  certainly  have 
got  away  from  Grenoble  if  I  could.  How  was  it  that 
when  you  were  at  the  Grande-Chartreuse  you  did  not 
go  down  into  the  town,  where  an  entire  tribe  of  my 
family  would  have  welcomed  you,  worshipped  you,  and 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       27 

perhaps  have  made  you  pass  a  few  pleasant  moments? 
You  say  nothing  now  about  your  health,  but  I  have 
had  a  report  from  the  Baron  de  Vogt  on  the  subject, 
which  pleases  me  much. 

"  Please  say  to  the  dear  Baron  that  I  shall  send  him 
to-morrow  the  ribbon  he  asked  me  for;  to  Matthieu, 
if  he  is  still  with  you,  that  I  received  his  letter  at 
Grenoble,  and  am  very  sorry  he  does  not  return  by 
way  of  Lyons ;  to  Mme.  de  Stael,  that  I  will  write  to 
her  soon,  and  that  I  think  of  her  often ;  to  all  those 
who  are  with  her,  and  especially  to  my  dear  Augustus, 
kind  regards." 

Some  days  later,  Camille  Jordan,  writing  now  to 
Mme.  de  Stael,  explains  the  causes  of  his  failure  to  ap- 
pear at  Coppet :  — 

"  Lyons,  Sept.  10,  1807. 

"You  would  never  think,  in  the  midst  of  your  whirl  of 
excitement,  of  inquiring  why  I  have  not  seen  you  this 
Autumn  ;  but  I  feel  I  must  tell  you  why.  Just  as  I  was 
ready  to  start  on  this  pleasant  trip  to  Paris,  Grenoble, 
and  Geneva,  on  which  I  had  counted  for  refreshment  for 
both  mind  and  heart,  a  new  obstacle  presented  itself:  1 
had  to  take  the  place  of  a  sick  brother,  and  go  South 
beyond  Montpelier  on  business.  I  hurried  home  only  a 
few  days  before  the  expected  confinement  of  ray  wife. 
Shortly  after,  the  agreeable  lawsuit,  of  which  I  have 
spoken  to  you,  began  again,  and  thus  the  days  go  by. 

"  But  will  you  not  come  here,  as  you  have  led  us  to 
hope  ?     Will  you  not,  at  least,  accompany  Juliette  upon 


28  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

her  return  ?  Has  Coppet,  which  you  have  made 
others  love  so  much,  at  last  won  your  affections  ?  We 
hear  of  nothing  but  the  enchantments  you  have  con- 
trived to  transport  thither.  But  all  that  will  not,  I 
fear,  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  heart  which  created 
Corinne. 

'■^  A2yropos  of  Corinne,  I  think  you  will  be  inter- 
ested if  I  send  you  this  extract  from  a  letter  I  have 
just  received  from  Mme.  de  Sharclt.-^  It  will  tell  you 
of  her  admiration,  and  also  of  a  criticism  by  Wieland. 
Goethe,  however,  appears  to  criticise  nothing;  and  in 
another  part  of  her  letter  she  simply  says  that  he  is 
enthusiastic.  Pray  impress  upon  the  lovely  Juliette 
how  much  we  desire  to  see  her  at  Lyons.  Say  to  her 
that  I  doubt  not  that  she  very  cordially  recommended 
me  to  her  relative  the  judge  ;  that  I  thank  her  heartily 
for  her  good  intentions,  but  that  never  were  intentions 
followed  by  less  effect ;  that,  far  from  finding  favor  in 
his  eyes,  my  family  have  not  even  obtained  justice  at 
his  hands ;  that,  in  the  discharge  of  functions  where  it 
was  his  duty  to  confine  himself  to  weighing  impartially 
the  evidence,  he  manifested  toward  us  an  amount  of 
prejudice  and  ill-will  which  was  the  scandal  of  all  who 
witnessed  it. 

"  What  has  become  of  your  proposed  essay  on  con- 
versation, and  of  Benjamin's  work  on  religions,  and 
Schleo;el's  dissertation  on  Phedre  ? 

"  Do  not  fail,  I  beg  of  you,  to  remember  me  to  your 

1  Lady  of  honor  to  the  Grand-Duchess  of  Saxe-Weimar. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       29 

children  and  cousin.     Believe  in  my  attachment,  all 
the  more  true  for  its  reticence  of  expression." 

Mme.  Rdcamier  did,  in  fact,  return  home  by  way  of 
Lyons,  whence  —  owing  to  her  man-servant  meeting 
with  an  accident  —  she  continued  her  route  to  Paris, 
accompanied  only  by  her  maid.  Camille  Jordan,  a 
little  apprehensive,  wrote  to  her  as  follows :  — 

"Lyons,  Oct.  4,  1807. 

"With  what  impatience,  dear  Juliette,  I  await  the 
letter  you  promised  me ;  I  already  begin  to  wonder 
why  I  do  not  receive  it!  How  is  it  possible  not  to 
have  some  anxiety  about  this  journey,  rashly  under- 
taken, without  a  man-servant,  in  your  delicate  health, 
and  in  such  unfovorable  weather  ? 

"  All  your  friends  here  are  very  uneasy ;  I  confess, 
however,  that  1  am  a  little  less  so  than  others,  for  I 
know  that  the  three  Graces  who  always  accompany  you 
are  not,  in  travelling,  a  useless  cortege ;  they  will  win  for 
you,  wherever  you  appear,  the  most  attentive  service. 
From  post  to  post,  in  my  mind's  eye  I  see  you  the  idol 
of  the  postilions,  the  dearest  friend  of  the  landladies ; 
and  it  is,  I  am  very  sure,  the  undefined  consciousness 
you  have  of  your  universal  empire  which  gives  you  in 
travelling  so  much  boldness  in  spite  of  your  timidity, 
and  that  made  you  set  at  defiance  all  our  prudent  coun- 
sels. 

"  I  would  tell  you  again  of  my  pleasure  in  seeing 
you,  of  how  my  heart  ached  in  parting  from  you,  of  my 
tender  afiection.     But,  as  I  have  said  before,  I  feel  it  ia 


30  MADAME   Rl^CAMIER 

almost  useless  to  express  such  feelings  to  you,  when  1 
think  what  a  spoiled  child  of  love  and  friendship  you 
are,  and  how  tame  my  simple  and  affectionate  ex- 
pressions must  seem  after  the  deep  sighs  of  the  Baron,^ 
the  sobs  of  the  Baroness,^  and  the  transports  of  Milady.^ 
It  is  true,  nevertheless,  that  if  you  laid  less  stress  upon 
this  outside  worship,  you  would  find  few  of  your  friends 
that  vie  with  me  in  constant  and  real  affection ;  and  in 
these  two  flying  visits  I  have  learnt,  if  that  were  pos- 
sible, to  love  you  even  better.  You  were  so  perfect  in 
your  behavior  to  me  ;  you  revealed  dispositions  of  soul 
which  touched  me  so  deeply  ;  I  have  been  so  delighted 
to  see  you  leaving  off,  day  by  day,  something  of  your 
coquetry,  and  attaching  yourself  more  and  more  to 
serious  and  sacred  things !  It  was  an  old  wish  of  mine, 
your  growth  in  perfection  and  your  well-being ;  and  it 
is  very  gratifying  to  me  to  see  my  wish  so  near  accom- 
plishment. But  why  did  we  talk  so  little  of  this  in- 
teresting reformation  ?  Why  was  it  that  importunate 
people  were  always  disturbing  our  private  conversa- 
tions ?  Why  was  I  myself  so  sadly  and  cruelly  pre- 
occupied? But,  apropos  of  this  preoccupation,  I  make 
haste  to  tell  you  that  your  short  visit,  like  a  good 
angel's,  seems  to  have  brought  me  a  blessing  :  my  child 
is  rapidly  getting  better,  requiring  now  only  care, 
and  causing  no  further  anxiety.     We  have  also  news 

i  De  Vogt.  ^  Baroness  de  Staijl. 

'  Lady  Webb,  a  beautiful  Englishwoman,  sentimental  and 
rather  frivolous,  whom  the  continental  blockade  had  detained  in 
France. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       31 

of  Deg^rando,  who  is  improving,  though  slowly.  So  1 
breathe  again ;  and  you  will  find  me,  I  trust,  in  the 
spring  looking  less  sad,  and  wholly  given  up  to  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you,  waiting  upon  you,  and  inflexible 
in  dragging  you  to  our  museums  and  our  valleys,  and 
making  you,  by  main  force,  admire  every  foot  of  your 
birthplace.  You  ought  to  do  so,  at  all  events,  out  of  sheer 
gratitude,  —  for  it  is  marvellous  how,  in  those  few  days, 
and  without  apparent  effort  on  your  part,  you  have 
added  new  conquests  to  the  old.  I  hear  that  the  Del- 
phins  ^  chant  in  chorus  your  praises ;  I  am  witness  to 
two  vanquished  mothers-in-law  confessing  that  their 
daughters'  husbands  were  right.  I  see  that  you  have 
completely  fascinated  my  Julie ;  and  even  my  little 
daughter,  afiectionately  asking  to  see  again  the  beauti- 
ful lady,  proves  how  it  runs  in  my  blood  to  love  you. 
There  is  only  Milady  of  whom  I  cannot  give  you  late 
news.  I  called  upon  her  once,  but  did  not  find  her 
at  home. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  the  letter  for  the  De- 
gerandos,  and  the  message  for  Antoinette. 

"  I  wrote  to  the  Baroness  the  very  day  you  left,  and, 
—  forgive  me,  —  having  caught  the  infection  of  tattling, 
I  could  not  help  telling  her  of  your  mad  freak  in  set- 
ting out  alone  with  your  maid. 

"  Remember  me,  I  beg  of  you,  to  your  husband,  and 
to  all  our  common  friends.  Above  all,  tell  Matthieu 
how  much  I  am  rejoiced  at  the  renewal  of  your  afiec- 


1  Brother-in-law  and  sister  of  M.  Recamier. 


32  MADAME   R^CAMIER 

tiou,  and  how  kindly  we  have  spoken  of  him  here. 
Adieu,  dear,  very  dear  Juliette  !  My  Julie  asks  to  be 
remembered,  and  shares  all  my  sentiments  towards 
you." 

Camille  Jordan  wrote  at  the  same  time  to  Mrae.  de 
Stael,  relating  to  her  this  incident  in  the  jouniey  of  her 
beautiful  friend ;  and  Mme.  de  Stael,  in  her  turn,  sent 
the  letter  to  Mme.  Recamier. 

"  How  much,"  she  writes  to  her,  "  has  this  solitary 
journey  distressed  me !  How  I  bewailed  the  fate  which 
severed  me  from  the  pleasant  Hfe  which  I  should  now 
enjoy  had  we  never  parted !  I  send  you  a  letter  of 
Camille  Jordan,  because  I  wish  to  give  you  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  yourself  as  others  see  you." 

CAMILLE  JORDAN  TO  MME.  DE  STAEL. 

"  Lyons,  Oct.  6,  1807. 
"  I  now  proceed  to  render  an  account  to  you  of  my 
precious  charge.  She  left  yesterday  at  one  o'clock, 
and  I  accompanied  her  a  short  distance.  You  had  a 
share  in  all  our  last  words.  She  made  me  promise  not 
to  tell  you  of  a  piece  of  rashness  on  her  part ;  but  how 
shall  I  keep  it  from  you  ?  We  had,  with  much  trouble, 
finally  persuaded  her  to  take  a  man-servant.  I  had  found 
an  excellent  one  for  her,  when  she  arranged  to  take  a 
young  cousin  with  her  in  her  carriage.  This  appeared 
to  me  even  better ;  but  what  happens  ?  At  the  very  last 
moment  this  absurd  cousin  changes  his  plans.  I  wish  to 
postpone  her  departure  in  order  to  fall  back  upon  the 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       33 

man-servant;  she  will  not  consent,  being  madly  bent 
upon  going  alone,  and  lo !  there  she  is  on  the  great  high- 
ways. I  was  in  despair ;  but,  however,  I  confess  I  am 
not  as  anxious  as  you  would  have  been,  when  I  con- 
sider that  she  does  not  travel  at  all  by  night,  that  she 
stops  half-way,  that  the  roads  are  safe  and  frequented, 
and  how,  at  the  sight  of  that  sweet  face,  everybody  is 
ready  to  oblige  and  eager  to  serve  her. 

"  We  kept  her,  as  you  perceive,  only  three  days. 
She  found  me  in  the  saddest  state  of  mind,  for  I  had  a 
child  very  ill,  and  had  just  heard  that  Degerando  had 
had  a  relapse.  But  she  came  like  an  angel  of  consolation. 
I  scarcely  quitted  her,  but,  in  fact,  saw  little  of  her  in 
any  satisfactory  way,  so  taken  up  was  she  by  family 
duties,  the  attentions  of  strangers,  and  a  sort  of  passion 
that  Lady  Webb  has  conceived  for  her.  In  all  this 
whirl  we  could  scarcely  secure  a  few  moments  alone 
together  for  private  conversation.  I  perceived  with 
joy  how  much  your  common  friendship  has  been  re- 
vived and  ennobled ;  how  her  mind  has  become  more 
serious,  more  religious,  more  loving,  and  a  new  charm, 
indefinable,  but  most  touching,  been  added  to  all  her 
old  fascinations.  I  condole  with  you  upon  losing  her, 
but  I  congratulate  you  upon  having  won  and  inspired 
such  an  affection.  I  am  relieved  also  in  regard  to  her 
health ;  every  thing  shows  that  it  is  better ;  and  it  was 
a  pleasant  sight  to  see  her,  after  a  very  fatiguing  day 
in  the  country,  dancing  a  gavotte  in  the  evening  at 
Lady  Webb's  with  all  her  old  lightness  and  grace.  Un- 
fortunately she  made  a  visit  the  next  day  to  the 
2*  0 


34  MADAME  RlSCAMIER 

hospitals,  which  excited  her  feelings  too  acutely ;  she 
slept  very  little  the  night  before  her  departure,  and 
■was  therefore  ill  prepared  for  travelling,  and  I  long  to 
have  tidings  of  the  journey. 

"The  Baron ^  was  an  object  of  pity  when  he  said 
good-by  to  her.  How  he  loves  her !  It  is  making  him 
more  worthv  of  being  loved.  Tell  him  that  we  regret 
having  seen  so  little  of  him.  My  child  is  better,  but 
my  friend's  health  and  situation  still  give  me  anxiety. 

"  Remember  me  to  my  dear  Augustus,  to  Messieurs 
Schlegel,  de  Sabran,  and  Sismondi." 


CAMIILE   JORDAN   TO    MME.    RECAMIEB. 

"  Lyons,  Jan.  8,  1808. 

"  I  do  not  write  you  so  regularly,  but  I  think  of  you 
very  often.  I  recall  our  last  conversations;  I  form  a 
thousand  wishes  for  the  fulfilment  of  all  good  pur- 
poses ;  I  see  with  emotion  the  time  of  journeys  and 
delicious  interviews  approaching.  Matthieu  has,  doubt- 
less, during  ray  silence  served  as  an  intermediary 
between  us.  He  must  often  have  assured  you  of  my 
affection.  You  have  had  to  console  him  lately  in  bitter 
anxieties,''  and  I  envy  you  the  attentions  you  have 
been  able  to  pay  to  this  excellent  friend. 

"  I  have  also  heard  of  you  several  times,  indirectly. 

1  The  Baron  de  Vogt,  who  had  accompanied  the  fair  traveller 
from  Geneva  to  Lyons. 

2  Matthieu  de  Montmorency  was  threatened  with  the  loss  of  liis 
lather. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       35 

I  was  for  a  little  while  alarmed  about  your  health,  but 
was  speedily  reassured.  I  long,  however,  to  hear  of  you 
at  last  from  yourself. 

"  Upon  my  return  from  the  country  I  was  myself  in- 
disposed for  some  time,  but  now  I  am  better.  I  have 
again  been  anxious  about  the  health  of  our  friends  the 
travellers,^  and  of  their  child,  but  we  get  at  last  ex- 
cellent accounts  of  them.  They  talk  more  than  ever 
of  their  return,  which  I  earnestly  desire. 

"  I  have  been  for  six  weeks  expecting  another  flying 
visit  from  another  friend,^  and  I  am  surprised,  and  even 
begin  to  be  anxious,  at  the  delay,  fearing  it  may  be 
owing  to  some  serious  obstacle.  I  have  written  to  ask 
an  explanation.  It  may,  however,  be  nothing  but  her 
natural  irresolution,  increased  by  her  recent  mental 
sufierings,  which,  I  am  told,  have  been  extreme,  and 
which  I  pity  profoundly.  The  latest  news  I  have  of 
her  was  given  me  by  the  Baron.^  He  had  much  to  say 
of  you,  and  with  his  usual  affection ;  he  remarked,  how- 
ever, upon  your  long  silence,  and  muttered  somethiug 
about  your  being,  perhaps,  occupied  with  some  new 
flirtation.  Can  this  be  really  possible  ?  And  that  re- 
generated heart,  which  was  dreaming  of  the  ideal  and 
the  infinite,  could  it  again  stoop  to  such  childish  sports  ? 
I  repel  such  a  suspicion. 

"  Everybody  here  remembers  you  faithfully  and  affec- 
tionately.    Even  Milady's  violent  fancy  for  you  does 

1  The  Degerandos,  who  were  in  Italy ;  M.  Degerando  was  com- 
missary for  the  French  government. 

2  Mme.  de  Stael.  3  Baron  de  Vogt. 


36  MADAME   RJ^CAMIER 

not  seem  extinguished  by  absence.  We  met  the  other 
clay  at  last  for  the  first  time  since  you  left  us.  She  was 
most  interesting  to  me  when  she  talked  about  the  great 
fiincy  she  had  taken  to  you.  But  no  one  remembers 
you  with  more  affection  than  my  angel  of  love  and 
goodness,  my  Julie ;  she  also  often  asks  when  you  are 
cominff  asjain. 

"  I  have  no  need  to  tell  you  that  my  little  Caroline 
continues  to  delight  me  by  a  prettiness  and  sensibility 
beyond  her  years." 


CAMILLE  JORDAN  TO  MME.  RECAMIER  AT  AIX,  IN  SAVOY. 

"  Lyons,  June  6,  1810. 

"  Dear  Juliette,  —  I  have  received  your  kind  note, 
and  delivered  immediately  those  enclosed  in  it.  The 
news  of  your  safe  arrival  has  been  joyfully  received, 
but  you  have  been  well  scolded  for  forgetting  that  let- 
ter of  Matthieu,  who  was  in  great  distress  about  it.  It 
seemed  a  strange  piece  of  thoughtlessness.  However, 
the  same  day  came  other  letters  from  him,  and  very 
sad  ones,  announcing  that  he  was  detained  by  the 
serious  illness  of  his  father.  You  may  well  imagine 
how  much  we  regret  this  delay  and  its  cause.  Our 
friend  more  especially  had  great  need  of  his  consoling 
presence,  for  since  your  departure  she  has  relapsed  into 
deep  dejection.  Schlegel  arrived  yesterday ;  Talma 
continues  to  occupy  all  our  time ;  we  either  go  to  see 
him  or  we  talk  about  him.  I  am  obliged  to  quit  them 
for  four  days  to  go  to  Bresse  on  business,  but  I  shall 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       37 

still  have  two  or  three  days  to  pass  with  them  on  my 
return ;  then  they  go  to  Aix.  I  fear  I  shall  miss  Adrien ; 
but  he  will  find  your  letter.  I  have  strongly  repre- 
sented to  our  friend,  in  accordance  with  what  you  say 
in  your  letter,  that  this  journey  would  give  you  the 
greatest  pleasure  ;  that  you  are  not  deterred  from  it  by 
any  selfish  considerations,  but  by  a  painful  deference  to 
another's  objections;  but  I  must  frankly  tell  you  —  I 
know  not  if  it  be  owing  to  the  power  of  her  eloquence 
—  that  she  has  convinced  me  that  if  there  were  any 
thing  objectionable  in  your  former  journey,  or,  rather, 
in  the  circumstances  connected  with  it,  there  are  no 
objections  to  the  excursion  at  present  contemplated,  as 
your  journey  has  evidently  a  difierent  object;  and  this 
mere  detour  would  not  be  noticed. 

"  But  I  especially  insist  that  you  make  us  a  long 
visit  on  your  return,  as  a  compensation  for  that  hasty 
one,  though  that  sufficed  to  make  my  Julie  feel  all  your 
charm ;  henceforth  she  shares  all  my  eagerness  to  see 
you  again ;  and  I  think  that  even  my  mother-in-law 
herself  would  be  almost  cured  of  her  migraine  by  the 
sight  of  you. 

"About  that  visit  you  say  to  me  things  which  are 
both  kind  and  cruel.  No  doubt  you  then  learnt  some- 
thing of  the  state  of  my  heart  toward  you ;  but  what ! 
Did  you  not  know  it  until  then  ?  and  is  not  loving  you 
an  old  and  dear  habit  of  mine  ?  I  hope  that  you  have 
begun  at  last  to  take  the  waters,  and  conscientiously. 
Say  to  the  Baron  that  my  regard  for  him  would,  if  that 
were  possible,  be  increased  by  the  perfect  care  he  takes 


#^«~<h  i 


38  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

of  you.  I  beg  of  him  not  to  forget  a  notice  he  promised 
me,  and  the  two  leaves  of  a  note-book. 

"  He  must  have  understood  how  pleased  I  have  been 
at  seeing  the  painful  question  which  divided  us  decided 
by  authority. 

"  Excuse  my  hasty  scrawl,  written  just  as  I  am  about 
to  start.  Let  it  convey  to  you  at  least  the  assurance 
of  my  tender  regard." 

As  we  see  by  the  preceding  letter,  Mme.  Recamier 
was  at  the  baths  of  Aix,  where,  in  the  summer  of  1810, 
a  very  brilliant  company  was  assembled.  Besides  Mme. 
Recamier,  there  were  among  the  guests  Mme.  de 
Boigne,  Adrien  de  Montmorency,  Monsieur  Sosth^ne 
de  Larochefoucauld  and  his  wife,  who  was  the  daughter 
of  Matthieu  de  Montmorency ;  and  also  the  Baron  de 
Vogt,  whose  name  has  already  occurred  several  times 
in  the  corresj^ondence  of  Camille  Jordan,  and  about 
whom  it  may  not  be  useless  to  say  a  few  words.  He 
was  an  intelligent  German,  whom  a  common  philan- 
thropy had  brought  into  close  and  friendly  relations 
with  Degerando  and  Camille  Jordan  ;  and  who  owned 
ill  the  environs  of  Hamburg  a  large  estate,  where  he 
devoted  his  time  and  intelligence  to  the  moral  im- 
provement of  the  peasants  and  to  the  advancement  of 
agriculture.  He  had  been  presented  by  Mme.  Recamier 
to  Mme.  de  Stael,  and,  being  naturally  very  enthusi- 
astic and  a  worshipper  of  celebrities,  was  very  much 
flattered  by  the  kind  reception  accorded  him  at  Coppet. 
But  if  the  Baron  paid  court  to  those  whose  eminent  talent 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       39 

gave  them  a  wide  reputation,  be  Avas  no  less  disposed 
to  side  always  with  those  in  power.  The  enthusiasm 
which  marked  several  of  his  letters  to  Mme.  Recaraier 
was  sensibly  cooled  when,  toward  the  end  of  the  year 
1810,  the  Emperor  Napoleon  adopted  harsher  measures 
against  Mme.  de  Stael,  —  suppressing  her  book,  "  De 
I'Allemagne,"  and  exiling  in  turn  Matthieu  de  Mont- 
morency and  Mme.  Recamier  in  1811. 

The  Baron's  letters  from  Geneva  furnish  some  in- 
teresting details  of  Mme.  de  Stael's  salon,  and  on  that 
account  a  few  extracts  from  them  are  here  inserted :  — 

THK  BAEON  DE  VOGT  TO  MME.  KECAMIEK. 

"  Sechekons,  Sept.  23,  1810. 

"  It  is  to  you  I  owe  the  very  gracious  reception  which 
has  been  accorded  me  at  Coppet.  It  is,  without  doubt, 
to  the  recommendation  of  being  your  friend  that  I 
owe  my  intimate  acquaintance  with  that  remarkable 
woman.  Without  you  I  would  probably  have  met 
her;  some  indifferent  acquaintance  might,  perhaps, 
have  introduced  lue  at  her  house,  but  with  my  habit, 
which  you  know,  of  avoiding  celebrities,  I  never  should 
have  penetrated  the  inmost  recesses  of  that  beautiful 
and  sublime  soul.  I  should  never  have  known  how 
much  superior  she  is  even  to  her  great  reputation.  She 
is  an  angel  senijft'om  heaven  to  be  a  revelation  oj^  good- 
ness upon  earth.  To  make  her  irresistible,  a  pure  ray 
of  celestial  light  adorns  her  mind,  rendering  her  in 
every  respect  charming. 

"Both  profound  and  light,  whether  she  be  search- 


40  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

ing  out  some  mysterious  secret  of  the  soul,  or  seizing 
the  subtlest  shade  of  sentiment,  her  wit  sparkles  but 
does  not  dazzle,  and  when  the  moment  of  greatest 
etfulgence  is  passed,  leaves  a  mild  radiance  behind  it. 
It  is  once  more  the  pure  daylight  which  illumines  good- 
ness. Doubtless  some  errors,  some  weaknesses  veil  at 
times  the  celestial  vision:  the  initiated  themselves 
must,  perhaps,  grieve  over  those  eclipses  which  the 
astronomers  of  Geneva  take  so  much  pains  to  calculate 
and  predict. 

"My  travels  since  I  last  wrote  have  been  confined 
to  journeys  to  Lausanne  and  Coppet,  where  I  often 
pass  three  or  four  days.  The  life  there  suits  me  per- 
fectly, —  the  society  still  better.  I  delight  in  the  wit 
of  Constant,  the  erudition  of  Schlegel,  the  amiability  of 
Sabran,  the  talent  and  character  of  Sismondi,  the  nat- 
uralness and  truth,  the  good  judgment  of  Augustus,  the 
sweet  and  spirituelle  loveliness  of  Albertine.  I  was 
forgetting  the  good,  the  excellent  Bonstetten,  full  of 
varied  learning,  affable  in  mind  and  disposition,  every 
way  calculated  to  inspire  esteem  and  confidence. 

"  Your  sublime  friend  oversees,  animates,  vivifies  the 
whole.  She  puts  mind  into  every  one  about  her.  In 
every  corner  there  is  somebody  engaged  in  composing 
something.  Corinne  is  writing  her  delightful  letters  on 
Germany,  which  will  be,  without  doubt,  her  finest  work. 

" '  La  Veuve  de  Sunam,'  an  oriental  melodrama  which 
she  has  just  finished,  will  be  played  in  October ;  it  is 
very  effective.  Coppet  will  be  flooded  with  tears. 
Constant  and  Augustus  are  each  writing  a  tragedy  j 


BENJAMIN   CONSTANT 

from  a  painting  by  Philippoteaux,  engraved  by  Wolff 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       41 

Sabran  is  composing  his  opera-comique ;  Sismondi,  his 
history ;  Schlegel,  his  translation  ;  Bonstetten,  his  phi- 
losophy ;  and  I,  my  letter  to  Juliette." 


"  Secheeons,  Oct.  18,  1810. 

"Since  my  last  letter,  Mme.  de  Stael  has  read  to 
us  several  chapters  of  her  work.  It  bears  throughout 
the  stamp  of  her  talent.  I  wish  I  could  induce  her  to 
strike  out  every  thing  relating  to  politics,  and  every 
metaphor  which  may  impair  the  perspicuity,  simplicity, 
and  correctness  of  its  style.  I  would  give  to  the  work 
a  harmless  character,  as  it  were,  that  should  disarm 
criticism  and  disappoint  malevolence.  She  has  no 
need  to  give  proof  of  republicanism  and  imagination, 
but  of  prudence  and  moderation.     Upon  my  return  to 

Coppet   I  found   there   Mme.  de  V ,  who  passed 

several  days  with  us,  and  who  loves  Mme.  de  Stael  with 
the  enthusiasm  she  cannot  fliil  to  inspire  in  all  who  are 
capable  of  appreciating  her. 

"  Mile,  de  Jenner  took  part  in  a  tragedy  of  Werner,^ 
which  was  played  last  Friday  before  an  audience  of 
twenty  persons.  The  three  actors,  including  Werner 
and  Schlegel,  played  to  perfection. 

"  The  plot  of  the  piece  is  excessively  tragic.  An  ob- 
scure family,  made  criminal  by  the  same  fatality  which 
was  so  disastrous  to  the  Atridae,  furnishes  an  Orestes  in 
humble  life,  or,  as  Mme.  de  Stael  said,  a  rustic  CEdipus. 

1  Werner's  sinister  drama,  entitled  "  The  24th  of  February." 


42  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

A  jjrofound  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  all  the  gloom 
with  which  religion  can  invest  itself  in  the  heart  of  a 
mystic  who,  though  guilty,  is  without  sin,  joined  to  ele- 
gant versification,  renders  this  beautiful  horror  deeply 
and  painfully  effective.     I  was  overpowered  by  it. 

"You  will  probably  not  be  curious  to  know  more 
about  a  play  in  which,  with  only  three  actors,  there 
are  three  murders  and  an  assassination.  We  breathed 
again  during  the  performance  of  some  proverbs  of  M. 
de  Chateauvieux,^  in  which  M.  de  Sabran  and  Augustus 
distinguished  themselves." 


"  October  28. 

"  The  arrival  of  M.  Cuvier  in  Switzerland  has  been  a 
happy  diversion  for  Mme.  de  Stael ;  she  saw  him  for 
two  days  in  Geneva,  and  they  were  very  well  i^leased 
with  each  other.  Upon  her  return  to  Coppet,  she  found 
Middleton  there ;  and  in  listening  to  his  troubles  she, 
in  a  measure,  forgot  her  own ;  since  yesterday  she  has 
resumed  her  work. 

"The  poet  whose  mystical  and  gloomy  genius  has 
caused  us  such  profound  emotions  leaves  in  a  few  days 
for  Italy. 

"  M.  de  Sabran,  Middleton,  and  Augustus  go  to 
Paris  in  December,  to  enlarge  the  interesting  circle 
which  gathers  around  you." 

1  LuUin  de  Chateauvieux,  a  man  of  eminent  abilities,  author 
of  the  "  Manuscrit  de  I'lle  d'Elbe,"  which  made  so  great  a  sensa- 
tion in  1814. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       4S 

"  CoppET,  Nov.  12. 

"  Werner  left  us  at  the  beginning  of  the  month ;  he 
is  going  to  Rome,  if  the  fear  he  has  of  everi/  thing  will 
allow  him  to  get  there.  There  is  a  singular  kind  of 
folly  and  inaptitude  in  these  imaginative  people.  It  is 
paying  even  for  genius  more  than  it  is  worth, 

"  I  accompanied  Corinne  to  Massot's.^  To  make  the 
sitting  less  tiresome,  they  managed  to  give  us  some 
pleasant  music.  A  young  lady  by  the  name  of  Romilly 
played  very  agreeably  on  the  harp ;  the  studio  was  the 
temple  of  the  Muses.  The  portrait  will  be  a  likeness 
without  that  exaggerated  air  of  inspiration  which, 
among  other  things,  mars  the  portrait  by  Mme.  Lebrun. 

"  Bonstetten  has  mxen  us  two  readino-s  from  a  me- 
morial  upon  the  Alps  of  the  North ;  part  of  it  was  vei-y 
good,  and  then  came  ennui. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

"  Mme.  de  Stael  has  resumed  her  readings ;  there  is  no 
longer  now  any  ennui.  It  is  prodigious  what  she  must 
have  read,  and  thoroughly,  too,  to  master  the  ideas 
about  which  she  says  such  charming  things.  It  is  very 
easy  not  to  be  of  her  opinion,  but  it  is  impossible  not  to 
admire  her  talent." 


"  Geneva,  Dec.  22. 
"  Here  we  all  are  at  Geneva ;  Les  Balances  has  be- 
come another  Coppet.     I  have  a  delightful   lodging 
overlooking  trellised  vineyards,  and  a  broad  view  of  the 

1  A  portrait-painter. 


44  MADAME  RECAMIER 

valleys  of  Savoy  between  the  Alps  and  the  Jura.  I 
see  from  my  windows  the  mountains  we  cross  at  Lea 
Echelles.  Last  evening  the  resemblance  to  Coppet 
was  perfect.  I  had  been  with  Mme.  de  Stael  to  call 
upon  Mme.  RUliet,  who  is  so  attractive  in  her  home ; 
upon  our  return,  I  played  chess  with  Sismondi,  while 
Mme.  de  Stael,  Mile.  Randall,  and  Mile.  Jenner  sat  on 
the  sofa  and  talked  with  Bonstetten  and  the  young 
Barante.  It  was  our  old  daily  life  over  again,  —  that 
by-gone  time  that  I  shall  never  cease  to  regret.  The 
young  Rocca  has  something  very  amiable  about  him. 
In  him,  a  gentle  disposition  and  a  delicate  constitution 
are  united  to  valor  and  courage.  He  is  so  small  that 
one  cannot  conceive  how  he  finds  room  for  all  his 
wounds ;  he  loves  his  profession,  and  his  father's  tears 
will  not  keep  him  here." 

The  foresroinar  extracts  are  the  last  from  the  letters 
of  Baron  de  Vogt  which  relate  to  Coppet,  as  in  1811  he 
ceased  visiting  Mme.  de  Stael,  and  quitted  Switzerland. 

This  somewhat  sudden  rupture  surprised  the  friends 
of  Mme.  Recamier,  who,  at  her  recommendation,  had 
received  the  Baron  with  great  kindness.  She  asked  an 
explanation.  His  reply  does  not  show  him  in  a  very 
heroic  light,  and  is  another  instance  of  the  demoralizing 
effect  of  despotism  upon  character :  — 

"  Friends  who  were  alarmed  for  themselves  and  for 
me,"  he  writes,  "persons  in  authority,  who  implored 
me  not  to  compromise  myself  and  those  who  are  inter- 
ested in  me,  and  not  to  injure  ihe  person  who,  through 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       45 

me,  might  seem  to  be  guilty  of  a  new  offence,  bave 
forced  me  to  quit  tbe  place  wbicb  I  bad  hoped  to  make 
a  second  home ;  and  have,  with  still  more  reason,  for- 
bidden me  to  see  the  person  who  has  rendered  this 
sacrifice  necessary.  My  only  remaining  hope  was  to 
obtain  that  person's  own  approval  of  my  determination. 
I  intrusted  this  commission  to  two  of  my  friends ;  their 
efforts  have  met  with  as  much  success  as  I  could  hope 
for. 

"This  is  the  explanation  you  have  requested,  and 
which  you  had  the  right  to  expect  from  me." 

Once  more,  in  1810,  Mme.  de  Stael  and  Mnie.  Re- 
camier  met  on  the  banks  of  the  Iioire,  at  the  chateau  of 
Chaumont,  where  they  enjoyed  for  some  time  the  pleas- 
ure of  being  together. 

During  this  sojourn  in  Tonraine  the  book  on  Ger- 
many, to  which  Mme.  de  Stael  had  devoted  two 
years  of  assiduous  labor,  was  seized  and  suppressed. 
"We  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  the  despair  Napoleon's 
renewed  severity  caused  to  the  noble  woman  who, 
almost  alone,  Avithstood  the  imperial  despotism.  Upon 
her  return  to  Coppet,  she  had  thenceforth  but  one  idea, 
—  to  quit  France,  to  escape  from  a  government  which 
fettered  both  heart  and  mind.  Her  letters,  growing 
more  and  more  sad,  portrayed  the  state  of  her  mind, 
and  confirmed  Mme.  Recamier  in  her  determination  to 
see  again  the  friend  rendered  more  dear  to  her  by  mis- 
fortune. But  before  doing  so,  she  wished  to  pay  a  visit 
in  the  environs  of  Paris  to  Mme.  de  Boigne,  a  person 


46  MADAME  RlSCAMlER 

whose  society  was  extremely  agreeable  to  her,  aud 
who  alone  of  all  the  friends  of  Mme.  Recamier's  youth 
survived  her.  But  she  found  at  the  chateau  Beauregard 
only  her  friend's  parents,  the  Marquis  and  Marchioness 
d'Osmont,  their  daughter  being  in  Savoy  with  General 
de  Boigne.  The  following  letter  expresses  Mme.  de 
Boigne's  rcfrret  at  not  seeinsr  her :  — 

THE   COUNTESS   DE   BOIGNE   TO   MME.    RECAMIER. 

"  BuissoNROND,  June  24,  1811. 

"  You  have  been  to  Beauregard,  where  you  were 
amiable  and  charming. — You  have  spoken  of  me  with 
interest  and  friendship.  They  have  told  me  all  about 
it ;  and  I  cannot  resist  the  desire  to  thank  you  for  this 
obliging  visit,  which  I  take  to  myself  a  little.  Alas ! 
how  I  wish  I  were  not  so  far  away !  I  will  not  speak 
of  the  life  I  lead  here;  you  know  it  by  heart,  and  I  do 
not  think  you  will  forget  it  very  soon.  Everybody 
talks  to  me  of  you,  regrets  your  absence,  and  longs  for 
your  return. 

"  I  went  the  other  day  on  what  was  called  a  pleasure 
excursion  to  a  certain  chateau  de  la  Batie,  to  which 
you  have  to  be  drawn  by  oxen.  There  were  fifty  of  us ; 
we  had  a  detestable  and,  moreover,  interminable  dinner, 
healths,  cannons,  brass  bands,  monograms  formed  of 
tricolored  cockades  (the  fete  was  for  the  prefect)  ;  sur- 
prises that  everybody  was  fully  prepared  for,  —  every 
thing,  in  fact,  that  is  comprised  in  as  strong  a  dose  of 
ennui  as  one  could  swallow  in  eight  hours'  time,  —  for 
the  festivities  lasted  until  night.     The  next  day,  Rain- 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       47 

ulphe  ^  yawning,  I  said  to  him,  '  What  is  the  matter  ? ' 
— '  I  am  bored.'  — '  With  what  ? '  — '  With  yesterday.' 
This  nonsense  made  us  laugh. 

"  Another  day  I  went  to  Aix ;  my  fii'st  visit  was  to 
the  maison  Capellini ;  after  making  that  pilgrimage, 
I  called  upon  Mme.  Perier,  who  talked  a  great  deal 
more  about  you  than  about  M.  and  Mme.  Sosth^ne ;  I 
thought  her  very  ungrateful.  I  have  engaged  the  house 
where  we  saw  Mme.  Hainguerlot ;  it  is  at  present  occu- 
pied by  Mme.  de  Talleyrand ;  but  I  am  told  that  she  is  to 
leave  immediately,  and  I  expect  to  be  settled  at  Aix  in 
a  fortnight.  I  shall  take  my  cook  with  me.  The  estab- 
lishment at  Mme.  Perier's  is  endurable  only  when  one 
is  there  in  force,  as  we  were  two  years  ago ;  and  I 
know  nobody  who  is  going  to  Aix  this  year.  They  say 
that  Mme.  Doumerc  will  be  there  ;  I  shall  be  happy  to 
meet  her ;  we  can  talk  together  about  you. 

"  So  the  marriage  of  Mile,  de  Catellan  is  settled ;  I 
am  very  glad  of  it ;  it  seems  to  me  every  way  wise  and 
free  from  objections,  which  is  all  that  can  be  attained 
in  a  marriage  de  convenance. 

"  I  have  received  a  very  kind  letter  from  M.  de  Balk, 
and  have  sent  him  an  answer,  to  which  he  has  replied ; 
but  as  I  do  not  wish  to  draw  him  into  a  correspond- 
ence which  in  the  end  he  would  tire  of,  and  which  I 
think  him  too  polite  to  be  the  first  to  break  off,  I  beg 
you,  Madame,  to  put  on  your  most  gracious  manner,  and 
say  to  him  that  I  have  received  his  letter,  that  I  thank 

1  The  Count  Rainulphe  d'Osmont,  her  brother. 


48  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

him  for  it,  and  that  discretion  alone  prevents  my  re- 
plying. I  saw  the  place  of  your  fall  in  the  Jura.  I 
shuddered  to  think  of  the  danger  you  ran  ;  I  think  it 
is  the  only  place  between  Moret  and  Les  Rousscs  where 
one  can  be  overturned  without  being  dashed  to  pieces. 
I  have  seen  Mme.  de  Stael ;  she  was  delightfully  kind 
to  me.  I  have  seen  Bretigny,  who  alarmed  me  very 
much  about  Mme.  de  Chevreuse ;  he  thinks  her  lungs 
are  affected ;  she  is  summoning  all  her  courage  to 
meet  death  ;  it  seems  easier  for  her  to  give  up  life  than 
Paris.  If  she  has  no  other  chagrin  than  that  of  exile,  I 
cannot  understand  her.  To  me  it  is  only  heart-sorrows 
which  can  make  one  so  weary  of  life.  Good-by,  dear 
Madame ;  I  did  not  mean  to  write  you  until  I  was  at 
Aix,  but  I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  remem- 
brance of  my  poor  Beauregard." 

Able  at  last  to  carry  out  the  project  which  she  had 
been  nourishing  for  six  months,  Mme.  Recamier  left 
Paris  on  the  23d  of  August,  1811,  with  a  passport  vise 
for  Aix  in  Savoy,  fully  resolved,  indeed,  to  go  thither 
to  take  the  waters,  but  still  more  fully  resolved  to  stop 
first  at  Coppet.  She  counted  upon  meeting  at  Mme. 
de  Stael's  Matthieu  and  Adrien  de  Montmorency,  for 
the  two  cousins  had  gone  in  company  to  Switzerlind. 
When  she  left  Paris,  Mme.  Recamier  was  not  aware 
that  Matthieu  do  Montmorency  had  already  been 
ordered  into  exile.  The  following  letter  from  him, 
which  miscarried,  and  was  not  received  until  long  after- 
ward, announces  the  painful  event  in  terms  so  ambigu- 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH        49 

ous   that   she   perhaps  would   have   had   difficulty  in 
understanding  it :  — 

"  August  28,  1811. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  aimahle  amie,  what  our  feel- 
ings are  at  this  moment ;  the  worst  of  all  is  the  state 
our  poor  friend  is  in ;  through  excessive  sensitiveness 
she  blames  herself  for  it  all,  and  that  makes  this  petty 
persecution,  which  otherwise  I  might  easily  endure, 
really  very  hard  to  bear.  Nevei'theless,  I  will  confess 
that  I  must  avoid  thinking  of  you  at  this  moment  if  I 
would  be  strong.  Still,  good  and  generous  as  you  are, 
shall  we  not  find  some  means  of  seeing  each  other  be- 
fore very  long?  But  at  jjresent,  if  you  follow  the 
dictates  of  your  heart  and  come  here,  I  verily  think 
that  vou  will  do  harm  to  our  friend.  Choose  between 
a  short  and  secret  journey  or  a  stay  at  Fribourg,  where 
we  could  go  to  see  you." 

It  was  not,  therefore,  until  Mme.  Recamier  arrived  at 
Coppet  that  she  heard  of  the  persecution  of  which  her 
noble  friend  was  the  object.  Some  hours  later,  a  letter 
from  M.  Recamier  acquainted  her  with  the  fate  she 
had  brought  upon  herself  by  her  self-sacrificing  friend- 
ship. 

"Paris,  September  3,  1811. 

"  To-day,  ma  bonne  amie^  is  the  tenth  since  your  de- 
parture :  I  have  received  neither  letter  nor  news  from 
you,  direct  or  indirect.  All  the  family  and  our  many 
friends  share  my  surprise,  which  amounts  almost  to 
anxiety,  at  so  speedy  a  negligence  on  your  part,  and  one 
8  s 


60  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

so  much  at  variance  with  all  the  promises  you  made  to 
us  in  parting. 

"  As  for  me,  I  have  written  to  you  very  punctually  ; 
first,  last  Thursday  a  long  letter,  and  since  then  I 
have  forwarded  all  which  has  come  to  me  for  you,  un- 
der cover  of  Messrs.  Mentsch  &  Co.  I  shall  continue 
to  do  so  until  you  yourself  give  me  new  directions  in 
regard  to  our  correspondence,  which  ought  hencefor- 
ward to  be  conducted  with  system  and  regularity, 
owing  to  the  delicate  and  critical  situation  in  which  we 
find  ourselves,  and  which  I  will  now  explain  to  you. 

"  You  know  that  I  am  not  always  possessed  of  that 
firmness  of  character  which  I  admire  in  certain  men, 
but  which,  unfortunately,  one  cannot  bestow  upon  one's 
self  I  had  so  little  of  it  as  to  be  very  much  alarmed 
last  Sunday  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  at  receiving  a  sum- 
mons from  the  Councillor  of  State  Prefect  of  Police,  to 
present  myself  at  noon  the  next  day  at  his  ofiice,  upon 
urgent  business  which  concerned  myself.  Though  the 
letter  was  couched  in  the  most  polite  terms,  it  annoyed 
me  infinitely  all  day  and  night ;  and  the  next  day  I 
was  there  precisely  at  the  hour.  I  was  immediately 
ushered  into  the  private  ofiice  of  the  prefect,  who  ad- 
vanced toward  me,  and  said,  '  I  am  very  sorry  that  I 
have  a  disaijreeable  commission  to  dischar£?e  relating  to 
Mme.  Recamier.  I  have  an  order  from  the  Emperor '  — 
he  was  holding  it  in  his  hand  — '  to  notify  her  to  with- 
draw to  forty  leagues  from  Paris.  I  thought  it  right  to 
beg  you  to  call  upon  me  that  I  might  acquaint  you 
with  this  order  privately,  rather  than  have  the  notifica- 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       51 

tion  pass  through  my  office.  Tt  will  be  necessary  for 
you  to  acknowledge  my  letter,  and  notify  me  that  you 
have  communicated  the  order  without  delay  to  Mme. 
Recamier.  Where  is  she  at  the  present  time?'  I 
expressed  my  great  surprise  at  such  an  order,  and  re- 
marked that  doubtless  the  Emperor  was  not  aware  of 
your  estimable  qualities  in  the  first  place,  or  of  your 
admiration  for  his  person.  I  told  him  that  you  left  ten 
days  ago  to  go  to  Aix,  and  since  then  I  had  not  heard 
from  you  either  directly  or  indirectly,  but  that  I  should 
the  next  day  take  means  to  inform  you  of  the  intentions 
of  the  government.  I  begged  him  to  let  me  know  the 
reason  of  the  order,  which  he  was  still  holding  in  his 
hand.  He  replied  that  such  orders  contained  neither 
reasons  nor  explanations ;  he  read  to  me  simply:  '  Mme. 
Recamier,  nee  Juliette  Bernard,  will  withdraw  to  forty 
leagues  from  Paris.'  At  this  enumeration  of  your 
names,  I  recognized  at  once  that  they  must  have  been 
taken  at  the  prefecture  of  police  from  the  minutes  of 
your  passport,  which  was  applied  ■  for  in  the  same 
terms.  I  asked  him  if  it  had  any  thing  to  do  with  your 
relations  with  Mme.  de  Stael.  He  replied  that  you  must 
be  aware  how  unfavorably  every  thing  connected  with 
her  was  judged  by  the  government.  'But,'  I  said, 
*  what  course  must  I  take  to  avert  such  a  calamity  ? ' 
'  It  will  be  best,'  he  said,  '  to  let  some  little  time  pass 
without  making  any  protest,  which  would  be  without 
effect.  The  Emperor  has  now  left  Paris ;  upon  his 
return  we  can  determine  what  will  be  best  to  do.  If 
Mme.  Recamier  is  with  Mme.  de  Stael,  she   can  stay 


52  MADAME  RlSCAMIER 

there  for  the  present ;  but,  wherever  she  is,  let  her  be 
cai-eful  of  her  conduct  and  movements,  so  as  not  to  in- 
crease the  unfavorable  impressions  the  government  must 
have  had  in  issuing  the  order  of  exile.'  I  give  you,  ma 
bonne  amie,  almost  word  for  word  the  conversation  I 
had  with  the  prefect,  so  that  you  may  understand  per- 
fectly your  position,  and  govern  yourself  accordingly. 
To  the  same  end,  I  also  subjoin  a  copy  of  the  letter 
which  I  addressed  to  him  this  morning,  in  compliance 
with  his  request. 

"  There  is  not  an  individual  of  the  family  or  house- 
hold, or  any  of  the  few  friends  whom  I  have  taken  into 
confidence,  who  has  not  exclaimed,  '  I  foresaw  and  fore- 
told what  has  happened ;  if  I  had  had  any  authority 
over  Mme.  Recamier,  I  should  have  strongly  opposed 
this  fatal  journey.* 

*'  For  my  part,  I  make  no  observations,  for  we  have 
already  talked  over  the  subject  together,  and  I  have 
always  made  it  the  rule  and  happiness  of  my  life  to 
respect  your  wishes,  tastes,  affections,  and  supposed 
religious  obligations  to  friendship.  Besides,  the  thing 
is  done.  It  would  be  useless  to  dwell  upon  regrets 
which,  under  the  circumstances,  are  gratuitous  and 
superfluous.  The  only  question  now  is,  how  to  allevi- 
ate your  situation,  and,  above  all,  not  to  aggravate  it 
by  any  new  imprudence,  that  might  have  the  most 
disastrous  consequences,  —  for  myself,  in  the  first  place, 
since,  in  my  position,  I  am  in  need  of  good-will,  and 
ought  to  try  to  inspire  a  f  ivorable  opinion  rather  than 
the  reverse  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  it  would  be  fatal 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       53 

to  the  prospects  of  every  member  of  the  family,  sup- 
posing it  were  to  happen  that  the  Emperor  should  take 
a  dislike  to  our  name  and  your  father's.  Accordingly, 
I  think  I  need  not  prescribe  to  you  any  course  of  con- 
duct for  the  present,  nor  for  the  future,  in  case  this 
exile,  contrary  to  my  expectations,  should  be  prolonged. 
Only  I  conjure  you  to  take  no  counsel  but  of  your  own 
prudence  and  sagacity.  I  know  you  have  so  much  of 
both  that  I  can  wholly  trust  to  what  you  think  you 
ought  to  do  at  this  critical  moment.  Especially  be  on 
Your  cfuard  aijainst  the  attraction  and  the  influence  of 
those  about  you ;  and  if  you  wish  to  consult  me  as  to 
your  future  residence,  I  will  try  to  select  one  which 
will  satisfy  all  requirements,  —  your  own,  of  course,  in- 
cluded,—  and  where  I  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of 
being  able  to  join  you  as  often  as  possible;  for  the  idea 
of  a  protracted  separation,  a  divided  household,  the  loss 
of  that  completeness  in  our  home-life  in  which  you 
took  some  pleasure,  has  already  given  rise  in  my  mind 
to  very  sad  and  sombre  thoughts  which  I  cannot  resist. 
"  Upon  coming  away  from  my  interview  with  the 
police,  I  went  directly  to  the  Droits  Heiinis,^  to  see 
your  father,  in  order  to  relieve  his  anxiety  in  regard 
to  the  injunction  of  the  previous  day,  as  I  had  prom- 
ised, and  also  that  he  might  inform  M.  Simonai'd,  who 
had  gone  to  Lyons  that  morning  in  company  with  his 


1  Droits  R^anis.  This  was  the  name  given  under  the  first  Em- 
pire to  the  imposts  which  are  now  called  contributions  indirectes,  — 
the  excise  ofBce.  —  Tr. 


54  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

daughter-in-law,  with  this  weight  on  his  mind.  Thence 
I  went  to  call  upon  the  Duke  d'Abranti^s ;  he  had  just 
left  to  pay  his  court  at  CompiSgne.  Then  I  thought  I 
would  try  to  find  M.  de  Catellan  ;  he  had  gone  the 
day  before  to  Contrexeville.  I  shall  write  to  Madame, 
at  Angervilliers,  and  to  M.  Dalmassy,  at  Richecourt ; 
but  I  do  not  speak  of  this  event  to  any  one  else  unless 
it  be  to  very  dear  friends.  I  am  going,  with  this  view, 
to  M.  Degerando  and  Leraontey.  My  brother  and 
sister-in-law  are  in  great  distress." 

In  this  conversation  between  M.  Recaraier  and  the 
prefect  of  police,  it  will  be  remarked  how  the  latter, 
who  was  a  person  of  unvarying  moderation  of  char- 
acter, strove  to  soften  the  odium  of  the  duty  he  was 
obliged  to  discharge  by  the  most  perfect  politeness  of 
manner;  no  less  striking  is  the  reply  to  the  inquiry  — 
certainly  a  very  modest  one  —  respecting  the  grounds 
upon  which  the  order  of  exile  was  based.  "  Orders  of 
this  kind,"  was  the  answer,  "  never  contain  any  state- 
ment of  reasons,  or  any  explanations."  In  our  turn, 
we  ask,  "  Is  it  not  paying  too  dear  for  glory  if  it  be 
purchased  at  the  price  of  submission  to  such  a  govern- 
ment of  mutes?" 

The  thunder-stricken  guests  at  the  chateau  of  Coppet 
scattered  in  all  directions.  Matthicu  de  Montmorency 
turned  his  steps  towai'd  Lyons;  Adrien  accompanied 
him  thither,  and  then  proceeded  northward ;  while 
Mme.  Recamier,  yielding  to  the  entreaties  of  Mme. 
de  Stael, —  who  still  flattered  herself  that  the  order 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       55 

of  exile  would  be  revoked,  —  returned  in  haste  to 
Paris.  She  wished  to  embrace  her  aged  father,  to  con- 
sult with  M.  Recamier  concerning  the  business  arrange- 
ments rendered  necessary  by  the  painful  position  in 
which  she  was  placed,  and  to  choose,  with  his  assist- 
ance, the  city  —  forty  leagues  from  Paris  —  in  which 
she  should  take  up  her  residence.  She  saw  no"  one 
outside  of  her  family,  and  maintained  the  strictest 
incognito^  but  the  police  watched  too  narrowly  the 
persons  they  considered  objects  of  suspicion  not  to  be 
aware  of  the  exile's  presence  in  Paris.  Forty-eight 
hours  after  her  arrival,  a  few  lines  from  the  prefect 
of  police  signified  to  her  plainly  that  no  time  was  to 
be  lost  in  obeying  the  order  already  received.  The 
note  was  addressed  to  M.  Recamier,  and  was  in  these 
terms:  — 

"  1st  Division. 

"  1st  Bureau.  Paris,  Septem'ber  17,  1811. 

"I  beg  you,  Sir,  to  have  the  kindness  to  let  me  know, 
<?«  receipt  of  this,  and  to  the  end  that  the  order  with 
which  I  made  you  acquainted  on  the  2d  of  this  month 
may  be  carried  into  execution,  where  Mme.  Recamier 
is  at  this  moment. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  salute  you, 

*'  Councillor  of  State,  Prefect  of  Police, 
"  Baron  of  the  Empire, 

"  Pasquier." 

The  next  day,  accompanied  only  by  M.  Recamier's 
great-niece,  —  a  child  of  six  years,  —  and  by  her  maid, 


56  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

the  poor  exile  sorrowfully  set  out  for  Ohiilons-sur-Marne, 
without  uttering  a  comi^laint,  without  allowing  any  of 
her  friends  to  take  the  slightest  step,  or  say  the  least 
word,  to  obtain  a  mitigation  of  her  lot.^ 

Mme.  Recamier  passed  ten  months  in  the  town  of 
Chalons,  where  she  found  very  few  resources,  in  spite 
of  the  attentions,  as  delicate  as  they  were  polite,  paid 
to  her  by  the  prefect,  M.  de  Jessaint,  and  his  wife. 
Under  a  despotic  government,  persons  in  disgrace  are 

1  After  having  laid  before  our  readers  all  the  documents  relat- 
ing to  the  exile  of  Mme.  llccamier,  it  will  not  be  without  interest 
to  see  what  the  Duke  de  Rovigo  says  on  the  subject  in  his  "  Me- 
moirs."    It  is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  lies  he  retails  in  that  work  :  — 

"  A  great  outcry  was  also  raised  against  the  exile  of  Mme. 
Recamier.  People  generally  talk  at  random  about  every  thing, 
without  well  knowing  what  they  say.  All  the  world  knew  of  the 
business  misfortunes  of  the  house  of  Recamier,  in  consequence  of 
which  Mme.  Re'camier  went  to  live  in  the  provinces ;  that  was 
very  honorable,  but  she  should  not  have  passed  herself  off  for  a 
victim  of  tyranny,  nor  written  nonsense  of  that  sort  to  everybody. 
It  would  have  been  more  honest  to  say  simply  that  she  had  lost 
her  fortune  through  unlucky  speculations,  rather  than  accuse  the 
Emperor.  Mme.  Recamier  remained  in  the  provinces  from  pru- 
dential motives,  and  used  to  say  to  her  admirers,  when  they  en- 
treated her  to  return  to  Paris,  that  it  did  not  depend  upon  her, 
thereby  wishing  it  to  be  imderstood  that  it  was  the  Emperor  who 
prevented  her,  while,  in  fact,  he  never  thought  of  her.  It  was  on 
this  account  that  he  gave  orders  if  she  did  return  to  Paris  she  should 
no  longer  be  allowed  to  collect  around  her  that  circle  of  grumblers 
to  whom  she  was  in  the  habit  of  pouring  out  her  imaginary  griefs. 
And,  to  speak  frankly,  I  wrote  to  her  that  I  desired  that  she  should 
not  think  of  coming  to  Paris  immediately.  She  had  no  intention 
of  returning,  but  was  very  well  satisfied  to  be  an  exile ;  it  made 
it  easy  for  lier  to  answer  a  crowd  of  importunate  people,  and  gave 
her  a  position  in  their  eyes." 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       57 

shunned  as  one  shuns  the  plague ;  and  Mme.  Recaraier, 
whose  steps  had  always  been  followed  by  an  admiring 
crowd,  had  more  than  once  occasion  to  bear  witness  to 
the  terror  that  may  be  caused  by  the  presence  of  an 
exile.  A  note  from  Mme.  de  Stael,  written  after  Mme. 
Recamier's  departure  from  Coppet,  —  a  departure  which 
she  had  herself  absolutely  insisted  upon,  —  shows  how 
intense  was  the  grief  she  felt  at  the  persecution  to 
which  her  friends  were  subjected,  and  which  she  ac- 
cused herself  of  bringing  upon  them :  — 

"  I  cannot  speak  to  you ;  I  throw  myself  at  your  feet ; 
I  conjure  you  not  to  hate  me.  In  the  name  of  Heaven, 
show  some  zeal  for  yourself  if  you  would  have  me  live. 
Extricate  yourself  from  this.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  know 
that  you  were  happy,  —  that  your  admirable  generosity 
had  not  ruined  you !  Ah,  mon  JDieu  !  I  am  out  of  my 
head,  but  I  adore  you.  Believe  it,  and  show  me  that 
you  feel  it  by  thinking  of  yourself,  for  I  shall  have  no 
peace  until  you  are  released  from  this  exile.  Adieu, 
adieu.  When  shall  I  see  you  again?  Not  in  this 
world." 

We  take  pleasure  in  inserting  here  a  letter  of  Le- 
montey,  which  shows  his  fidelity  to  his  friends  in  mis- 
fortune :  — 

"  I  learn  with  much  pleasure  that  you  have  given  up 

your  intention  of  travelling.     Aside  from  some  other 

objections   connected  with  present  circumstances,  this 

moving  about  seems  to  be  an  indication  of  restlessness 
3* 


68  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

and  weakness.  You  should  leave  such  excitements  to 
your  scatter-brain  acquaintance.  With  your  pure  heart 
and  cultivated  mind,  you  will  be  astonished  at  the  re- 
sources you  will  find  within  yourself,  and  how  much 
solitude  will  quicken  your  imagination.  I  should  like 
very  much  to  see  your  retreat  for  one  moment,  that  the 
memory  of  it  might  always  be  present  with  me,  and 
my  thoughts  know  always  where  to  find  you,  for  since 
your  departure  you  have  never  been  absent  from  my 
mind.  I  love  every  thing  which  recalls  you;  I  am 
touched  even  to  tears  by  the  friendship  of  Mme.  de 
Catellan,  and  by  the  frank  and  tender  interest  of  M. 
Kecamier.  I  am  enraged  with  all  those  imbeciles  by 
profession  —  the  book-makers  —  for  not  having  brought 
out  a  single  work  that  I  can  send  you  with  the  cer- 
tainty that  it  will  interest  you. 

"  Most  to  be  pitied  is  the  poor  cousin  ;  ^  she  as  well 
as  I  is  exiled  from  you ;  and  I  thoroughly  sympa- 
thize with  her  in  a  grief  which  I  share.  You  cannot 
doubt  the  impatience  with  which  I  shall  constantly 
look  forward  to  hearing  from  you,  and  the  gratitude  1 
shall  feel  for  all  the  good  that  Providence  or  man  be- 
stows upon  you.     Love  ever  you? 

«  Edguaed." 

M.  de  Montmorency  had  shared  the  hopes,  or  rather 
the  illusions,  of  Mme.  de  Stael  on  the  subject  of  their 
common  friend.  By  a  letter  from  his  daughter,  Mme. 
de  Larochefoucauld,  he  learnt  at  Lyons  that  he  could 

*  Mme.  Dalmassy.  ^  Written  in  English.  —  Tb. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       59 

no  longer  flatter  himself  that  there  would  be  any  miti- 
gation of  her  sentence.  It  was  with  very  strong 
emotion,  therefore,  he  wrote  to  her  on  the  tenth  of 
September :  — 

"I  have  not  yet  thanked  you  for  your  kind  little 
word  at  parting.  I  was  waiting  to  send  by  Adrien, 
who  urges  me  to  make  haste.  It.  is  very  sad  to  part 
from  him ;  but  a  great  deal  more  so  is  what  my  daugh- 
ter tells  me,  but  which  I  hear  from  her  alone,  of  an 
accident  to  your  health  similar  to  my  own.^  I  will  not 
yet  believe  it.  I  am  not  so  selfish  as  not  to  be  very 
much  affected  by  it.  Is  it  that  Providence  would  bring 
us  still  nearer  together  by  this  little  martyrdom  that 
we  suffer  in  common  for  friendship's  sake  ?  I  fear  the 
consequences  for  our  friend.  Let  me  know  promptly 
the  truth,  and  let  me  know  what  your  plans  are 
Let  us  sometimes  pray  together,  though  far  off,  and 
keep  for  me  my  precious  place  in  your  friendship.  Let 
M.  Recamier  forward  your  letter  with  his  own  corre- 
spondence, under  cover  of  Camille,  who  is  thinking  a 
great  deal  about  you." 

In  these  painful  circumstances,  Mme.  Recamier  also 
received  expressions  of  sympathy  from  another  friend, 
Mme.  de  Boigne,  who,  as  soon  as  the  news  reached  her, 
wrote  from  Paris :  — 

1  With  what  precaution  it  was  customary  to  speak  of  the  harsh 
measures  of  the  Imperial  rule,  is  shown  by  the  circumlocutions 
employed  by  M.  de  Montmorency  to  avoid  using  the  word 
"exUe." 


60  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

"October  15,  1811. 

"  I  hope  to  have,  through  Mme.  tie  Cutellan,^  an  oppor- 
tunity of  writing  to  you  by  private  hand.  I  profit  by 
it  with  the  more  eagerness  as  I  have  long  desired  one, 
and  the  fear  only  of  displeasing  you  has  prevented  me 
writing  simply  by  the  post,  not  to  tell  you  what  I 
think,  but  to  ask  about  yourself.  I  expect  to  see  Mme. 
de  Catellan  to-day ;  she  will  give  mc  news  of  you,  and 
will  tell  me,  I  hope,  what  your  plans  are,  and,  above 
all,  your  hopes.  I  would  talk  to  you  of  my  regrets  and 
my  tender  interest  if  they  were  any  thing  remarkable, 
but  I  see  my  sentiments  shared  by  all  the  world ;  there 
seems  to  be  no  difference  of  opinion  in  regard  to  you ; 
even  the  people  who  know  you  least  are  distressed  at 
your  absence.  You  are  receiving  now  the  fruit  of 
that  kind  benevolence,  that  gift  of  Heaven  of  which 
I  have  often  spoken  to  you,  which  accompanies  you 
everywhere,  —  everywhere  making  partisans  for  you.  ad- 
mirers and  faithful  friends.  I  saw  Adrien  last  evening ; 
I  overwhelmed  him  with  questions ;  but  you  know  how 
very  unsatisfactory  his  replies  are,  how  absent-minded 
he  is,  even  with  regard  to  things  which  interest  him 
most.  I  shall  know  more  about  your  situation  after 
talking  ten    minutes   with    Mme.   de    Catellan    than 

1  The  Marchioness  de  Catellan,  whose  name  occurs  often  in  this 
correspondence,  liad  torn  lierself  away  from  the  luxurious  life 
which  her  large  fortune  enabled  her  to  lead,  to  share  with  Mme. 
Rdcamier,  for  several  weeks,  the  solitude  and  ennui  of  Chalons ; 
upon  her  return  to  Paris  she  became  the  medium  of  communica- 
tion with  her  exiled  friend. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       61 

Adrien  told  me  in  two  hours.  I  like  Mrae.  de  Catellan 
for  her  devotion  to  you ;  to  know  so  well  how  to  ap- 
preciate you  is  in  itself  a  merit.  The  one  whom  I 
should  pity  with  all  my  heart  is  your  friend,^  were  it 
not  that  the  versatility  of  her  imagination  spares  her 
the  pain  of  reflection.  I  will  not  tell  you  that  I  pre- 
dicted the  result ;  you  know  it  well,  and  you  also  fore- 
saw it,  but  your  angelic  goodness  led  you  on.  I,  who 
am  not  so  good,  should  not  have  been  carried  away. 
Unfortunately  one  cannot  alter  what  is  past.  But 
among  the  many  powerful  friends  whose  influence  you 
have  used  for  the  sake  of  others,  is  there  not  one  who 
can  say  to  the  Emperor,  what  is  very  true,  that  you  do 
not  deserve  the  distinction  he  accords  you?  I  know 
no  one  more  faithful  in  friendship  than  you,  or  less 
pertinacious  in  your  opinions.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
is  the  way  the  matter  should  be  represented,  and  it  is 
so  true  that  I  think  all  that  is  needed  is  an  opportunity 
to  say  it. 

"I  have  also  my  little  tribulations,  but  they  are  of 
too  domestic  a  nature  to  be  worth  mentioninsr.  As  a 
compensation,  I  have  the  extreme  satisfaction  of  find- 
ing my  mother  much  better  than  when  I  left  her.  She 
charges  me  with  a  thousand  kind  messages.  My  father 
and  brother  are  your  humble  servants. 

"  Tell  me  frankly  if  you  Avould  like  to  hear  from  me 
from  time  to  time.  I  will  not  write  to  you  of  your  sit- 
uation, or  about  aflairs,  but  I  will  give  you  news  of 

1  Mme.  de  Stael. 


62  MADAME    RlSCAMIEB. 

society  which  may  divert  you.  If  you  see  no  objec- 
tions to  it,  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  talk  to  you  of  my 
tender  friendship." 


ADKIEN  DE  MONTMORENCY  TO  MME.  EECAMIEB. 

"  Thursday,  October  10,  1811. 

"  It  is  twice  twenty-four  hours  since  I  wrote  you,  and 
besjan  a  letter  which  Felicite^  finished.  But  as  I  had 
taken  her  by  surprise,  and  she  did  not  expect  me,  she 
had  addressed  to  me  here  a  letter  for  you  to  be  for- 
wai'ded  immediately.  She  is  much  more  occupied  with 
you  than  with  herself.  And  I  also,  it  is  your  woes 
which  weigh  upon  my  heart.  For  hers  I  am  hard- 
hearted. I  consider  her  on  a  bed  of  roses ;  but  you, 
dear  friend,  poor  innocent,  and  so  inofiensive,  driven 
so  far  away,  alone,  without  family,  with  no  other  con- 
solation than  your  noble  heart,  —  it  is  for  you,  and  her 
who  is  the  innocent  cause  of  all  these  woes,  that  I  re- 
serve and  have  compassionate  tears.  Do  not  say  again 
that  you  do  not  wish  to  see  me ;  it  is  a  useless  pro- 
hibition ;  I  will  not  obey.  Only  I  must  know  your 
plans.  If  you  pass  all  the  month  of  November  at 
Chalons,  I  will  choose  some  time  in  the  middle  of  the 
month  for  my  visit  on  my  way  to  Montmirail.  I  am 
naturally,  through  my  heart  and  through  a  sense  of 
honor^  a  brother  to  those  who  suffer.     But  you,  whose 

1  Felicity  was  one  of  the  baptismal  names  of  Matthieu  de  Mont- 
morency;  during  his  exile  his  cousin  Adrien  often  thus  designated 
bim. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       63 

friend  I  have  been  in  the  days  of  your  prosperity,  —  all 
through  your  most  charming  and  intoxicating  youth,  — 
shall  I  abandon  you  while  I  still  retain  my  indepen- 
dence ? 

"  Have  you  seen  our  good  Sosth^ne  ?  •*  I  have  re- 
ceived a  very  kind  but  heart-rending  letter  from  poor 
Mme.  Olive.^  A  thousand  and  thousand  tender  hom- 
ages, which  spring  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart.  I 
beg  you  to  write  to  me,  and  tell  me  how  you  employ 
your  time.  Who  is  with  you  ?  Are  you  not  going  to 
Lyons  ?  Do  you  know  that  M.  de  Montrond,  who  was 
at  Antwerp,  has  been  transferred  to  the  fortress  of 
Ham?" 

Camille  Jordan  could  not  be  insensible  to  the  situa- 
tion of  Mme.  Recamier :  he  wrote  to  her  from  Lyons :  — 

"December  4, 1811. 

"  While  I  was  feeling  hurt  and  surprised  to  find  that, 
in  your  solitude,  you  remembered  me  only  to  use  me 
as  a  medium  of  communication  with  others,  I  learn  from 
the  Baron  de  Vogt  that  you  yourself  are  complaining 
of  me,  and  say  that  you  have  had  no  letters  from  me 
since  your  exile.  Well,  there  is  nothing  but  mis- 
understanding in  this  poor  human  life.  So  you  have 
not  received  a  letter  which  I  wrote  you  in  the  very 

1  Sosthene  de  Larochefoucauld,  son  of  the  Duke  de  Doudeau- 
ville,  and  son-in-law  of  Matthieu  de  Montmorency.  From  the 
chateau  de  Montmirail,  where  he  lived  with  his  father,  he  paid 
frequent  visits  to  Chalons. 

2  Mme.  de  Stael,  designated  under  the  name  of  her  maid. 


64  MADAME    R£CAMIER 

beghuung,  under  cover  of  Mme.  de  Catellan !  Can  it 
be  possible  that  such  inoffensive  expressions  of  the  most 
legitimate  interest  have  not  been  allowed  to  pass  free  ? 
or  must  I  accuse  Mme.  de  Catellan  of  negligence  ?  In- 
deed  I  am  very  much  tempted  to  do  so,  for  I  have 
written  to  her  three  times  within  a  year  without 
receiving  any  sign  of  life  from  her.  But,  in  default  of 
my  letter,  did  you  not  know  my  heart,  and  could  you 
doubt  of  my  sensibility  to  your  troubles  ?  I,  who  loved 
you  when  you  were  happy  and  surrounded  by  friends,  — 
what  must  I  feel  for  you,  now  that  you  are  solitary,  and 
sad,  perhaj^s?  I  cannot,  it  is  true,  always  rival  the 
German  enthusiasm  of  the  Baron,  who  sees  in  you  not 
the  slightest  fault,  whose  letters  about  you  are  hymns 
of  praise.  But  is  my  more  clear-sighted  friendship  less 
tender?  and  has  not  its  very  frankness  been  a  con- 
stant guarantee  of  its  fidelity  ?  It  was  said  that  you 
were  coming  to  Lyons ;  you  would  have  seen  whether 
I  would  have  cared  for  you!  I  have  since  learnt  that 
we  must  renounce  this  hope.  I  have  heard  several 
times  indirectly  of  you,  and  how  you  are  living.  I  am 
assured  that  you  are  a  model  for  exiles  in  resignation, 
patience,  prudence,  consideration  toward  friends,  deli- 
cacy in  act  and  thought.  In  this  I  recognize  that 
nobility  of  nature  I  have  always  loved  in  you.  It 
would  appear,  moreover,  that  you  will  not  for  long  be 
required  to  set  an  example  of  these  virtues,  and  that 
the  great  heart  of  a  great  prince,  who  cannot  have  any 
serious  hostility  to  you,  will  ere  long  put  an  end  to  this 
passing  trial.     Have  you  Mme.  de  Catellan  still  with 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       65 

you?  Has  one  of  your  companions  in  misfortune 
passed  your  way?  Do  you  sometimes  receive  news 
from  the  stormy  lake  Leman  ?  It  is  centuries  since  I 
have  had  any.  You  know,  perhaps,  what  a  long  so- 
journ the  Baron  has  made  here,  and  how  much  I  have 
enjoyed  his  society.  I  announced  to  you,  I  think,  in 
the  letter  you  have  not  received,  the  approaching  con- 
finement of  my  wife ;  you  have  heard  probably  that 
she  has  given  me  a  son.  I  have  tasted  for  the  third 
time  the  joys  of  paternity.  Mother  and  children  are 
at  this  moment  as  well  as  possible.  Caroline,  whom 
you  seemed  to  notice  especially,  is,  indeed,  it  appears 
to  me,  remarkably  engaging  and  intelligent.  My  wife 
charges  me  particularly  to  tell  you  how  well  she  remem- 
bers you,  and  how  much  she  is  interested  in  your  fate. 

"  Regny,  Milady,  and  a  host  of  others  remember  you 
faithfully  and  tenderly.  Adieu,  dear  Juliette  ;  and  do 
not,  you  who  were  always  so  good  and  perfect  to  me 
in  your  happy  days,  take  advantage  any  longer  of  the 
privilege  of  your  troubles  to  neglect  me,  to  maltreat 
me,  but  let  me  hear  once  again,  and  very  soon,  that 
you  love  me  still." 


ADRIEN   DE    MONTMORENCT    TO   MME.    RECAMIER. 

"  November  10,  1811. 
"  Your  very  faithful  friend  and  admirer  ^  has  brought 
me  a  letter  from  you,  full  of  lofty  sentiments,  of  courage. 

1  Sostli^ne  de  Larochefoucauld. 


66  MADAME    R:SCAMIER 

and  of  friendship  for  me.  But  be  has  talked  to  me  of 
you  —  of  your  loneliness  and  your  melancholy  thoughts 
—  with  an  interest  which  has  moved  and  distressed  me. 
Poor  friend !  you  are  very  sad,  your  days  are  very  long 
and  empty,  and  the  dreariest  thing  in  the  situation  is 
that  one  can  see  no  end  to  it. 

"  I  should  like  a  letter  from  you,  telling  me  of  the 
employment  of  your  time,  of  your  daily  habits,  of  your 
acquaintances,  and  your  evening  amusements ;  some- 
thing, in  short,  which  will  help  me  to  find  you  when- 
ever my  thoughts  turn  in  search  of  you.  This  is  what 
I  would  fain  know  ;  for  as  to  making  me  comprehend  all 
your  nobility  of  character,  your  disinterestedness,  your 
resignation  under  misfortune,  which  you  are  resolved 
never  to  sully  by  any  false  step,  —  these  are  noble 
secrets  of  your  heart,  which  I  know  as  well  and  better 
than  you  do  yourself. 

"  I  will  deliver  to  Mme.  de  Boigne  all  your  gracious 
messages.  She  is  still  in  the  country  with  her  brother. 
Find  for  him  a  young  wife  with  estimable  qualities 
and  fortune,  and  all  the  family  will  thank  and  bless 
you.  But  why  should  I  foi'get  to  tell  you  of  the  legacy 
loft  me  by  M.  de  Robecq,  —  the  reversion  of  a  pretty 
estate  in  Holland,  much  dej^reciated  by  the  revolution, 
but  which,  before  that  time,  was  a  small  sovereignty, 
where  I  should  have  begged  you  to  come  and  reign  ? 
To-day  the  income  is  reduced  to  twelve  or  fifteen  thou- 
sand francs,  upon  which  I  have  heavy  dues  to  pay,  and 
of  which  I  do  not  come  into  possession  until  the  death 
of  the  princess.     I  have  just  been  passing  a  week  e7i 


MATTHIEU    UE    MONTMORENCY 

fyom  a  rare  engraving 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       67 

fmnille  with  Felicite,  —  one  of  the  persons,  I  imagine, 
whom  you  love  and  esteem  most  on  earth.  I  am 
jealous  of  your  preferences." 


MATTHIBU   DB    MONTMORENCT    TO    MME.    EECAMIER. 

"  Beaxjne,  Monday,  November  16, 1811. 

"Just  as  I  am  about  quitting  my  good  cousin's 
hospitable  chateau  to  repair  to  that  where  my  daughter 
is  awaiting  me  so  impatiently,^  but  where  you  think  I 
ought  not  to  go,  I  receive  a  letter  from  you,  in  which 
you  speak  very  kindly  of  these  family  aflairs.  I  am 
equally  touched  by  the  interest  you  take  in  my  ulterior 
projects,  and  struck  by  the  very  simple  and  noble  man- 
ner in  which  you  judge,  from  a  high  point  of  view,  all 
those  little  miserable  calculations  of  timid  prudence 
which  influence  so  many  others.  In  truth,  I  must  say 
that  in  this  last  matter  I  have  encountered  less  o23po- 
sition  than  I  anticipated,  and  those  whose  opinion  ought 
to  influence  me  have  very  kindly  begged  me  to  adhere 
to  my  first  resolution.  Being,  moreover,  reassured  in 
another  quarter,  I  have  neither  wished  nor  thought  it 
necessary  to  subject  myself  as  well  as  my  daughter  to 
so  severe  a  trial  as  a  prolonged  separation  would  be 
during  the  very  months  we  had  arranged  to  pass  to- 
gether. I  shall  remain  with  her,  therefore,  until  the 
month  of  January ;    and  then  I  hope,  though  I  say 


1  He  was  going  to  the  chateau  de  Montmirail,  only  seventeen 
leagues  distant  from  Chalons. 


68  MADAME    KI^CAMIER 

nothing  about  it  to  any  one,  to  give  to  friendship  a 
proof  of  my  gratitude  as  well  as  of  my  faithful  zeal  in 
doing  all  that  is  possible  to  bring  us  together.  I  say 
nothing  of  a  certain  degree  of  courage  being  required ; 
it  seems  impossible  that  you  should  be  wanting  in  that, 
and  there  is  nothing  in  our  common  lot,  common  in  ap- 
pearance, at  least,  to  make  us  blush.  Do  you  not  already 
know  why  1  have  not  been  sooner  to  see  you,  and  find 
out  for  myself  what  I  wish  so  much  to  know  ?  I  have 
particularly  thought  of  it  when  I  have  imagined  I  saw 
causes  for  anxiety.  I  was  thinking  of  going  by  way 
of  Burgundy,  and  joining  you  from  there,  when  my 
mother  proposed  a  rendezvous  of  a  few  days  at  Or- 
leans :  it  is  really  a  very  kind  offer,  and  one  impossible 
for  me  to  refuse.  I  am  slowly  on  my  way  thither, 
following  the  course  of  the  Loire.  I  intended  to  go 
afterward,  about  the  15th,  to  see  you  at  Chalons,  but 
they  tell  me  you  think  of  leaving  that  place  and  going 
to  Lyons,  to  be  with  some  of  your  family.  Of  the 
propriety  of  such  a  choice  there  is  nothing  to  be  said ; 
[  have  left  there  one  man  at  least  who  will  be  greatly 
pleased.  But  I  should  have  liked  it  better  if  you  were 
not  in  such  a  hurry ;  and  I  think  it  very  hard  that  I 
learn  only  through  others  your  plans  and  arrangements. 
"  My  journey  condemns  me  to  painful  ignorance  on 
another  subject,  —  the  movements  of  our  friend,  and  her 
plans  for  the  future.  I  hope  her  son  will  not  leave  me 
uninformed.  Adieu,  airnable  amie ;  you  will  do  very 
wrong  not  to  yield,  not  to  believe  in  the  purity  and 
sincerity  of  my  wishes  for  your  happiness." 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.        69 

MATTHIEO    DE    MONTMORENCY    TO   MME.    RECAMIER. 

"  MoNTMiKAiL,  Nov.  22,  1811  (eveniiig). 

"  I  can  no  longer  delay  thanking  you,  aimahle  amie, 
for  the  letter  brought  me  by  Sosthene,  which  has  in- 
terested me  deeply.  Why  do  you  speak  of  displeasing 
me?  How  could  such  an  expression,  which  has  no 
longer  any  meaning  between  us,  be  ever  applicable 
when  you  open  to  me  your  heart  with  a  confidence 
which  touches  me,  honors  me,  and  of  which  I  accept 
with  gratitude  the  touching  privilege  ?  Sosthene  has 
come  away  deeply  penetrated  with  esteem,  I  should  say 
respect  rather,  for  your  interesting  situation.  I  see 
you  always  with  your  two  little  girls  ^  either  going  to 
church  or  making  certain  other  visits  to  which  your 
good  heart  prompts  you.  Do  not  spoil  this  precious 
beginning,  but  persevere  in  your  generous  disposition  ; 
give  me  from  time  to  time  these  revelations  of  your 
inner  life  due  only  to  friendship.  You  are  very  good 
to  ask  with  so  much  interest  for  similar  revelations 
concerning  the  life  I  am  leading  here.  It  is  almost  the 
same  as  last  year ;  and  as  I  should  be  here  at  this  time 
of  my  own  choice,  I  am  able  to  delude  myself  into  for- 
getting that  I  have  not  as  much  freedom  as  ever. 

"  I  enjoy  greatly  this  family  meeting,  which  would 
be  almost  complete  were  my  mother  here,  and  Adrien, 
who  will  join  us  the  beginning  of  next  month.  We 
have  nothing  to  be  compared  to  the  animation,  the 
incredible  vaxiety  of  our  friend's  conversation ;  but  is 

1  Her  niece,  Amelie,  and  her  cousin,  Mile,  de  Dalmassy. 


70  MADAME    RJ^CAMIER 

she  not  unique  ?  As  you  say,  it  is  much  better  here 
than  at  Dampierre ;  one  breathes  a  certain  atmosphere 
of  virtue  wliich  does  the  soul  good.  M.  de  Doudeau- 
ville  is  admirable  in  this  quiet  home-life,  which  would 
be  a  trial  to  any  other  man  ;  and  when  I  see  him 
offering  up  to  God  the  prayers  of  all  this  family  as- 
sembled around  an  altar  consecrated  by  their  grief,^  I 
am  penetrated  by  a  sentiment  that  cannot  be  without 
fruit,  and  that  you,  more  than  any  one  else,  would  feel. 
Why  cannot  we  have  you  here  for  a  while  ?  Let  us 
profit  at  least  by  our  proximity  to  mingle  unceasingly 
our  thoughts  and  feelings.  Adieu!  I  have  also  been 
working  again  a  little,  and  am  profiting  by  this  fine 
weather  to  take  walks.  I  shall  not  cease  to  be  anxious 
about  our  friend  until  I  have  news  of  her  from  Geneva." 


MATTHIEtr   DE    MONTMORENCY   TO    MME.    RECAMIEE. 

"  MoNTMiRAiL,  December  4, 1811. 

"  I  intended  to  answer  your  interesting  letter,  aimoMe 
awie,  by  the  last  post :  I  am  glad  I  waited  until  now, 
since  I  should  have  told  you,  unnecessarily,  of  the  un- 
easiness I  could  not  help  feeling  at  the  non-arrival  of 
letters  I  was  expecting.  I  received  one  this  morning 
which  has  relieved  my  anxiety.  It  was  some  time  on 
the  way,  being  dated  November  24,     Our  friend  was 


1  The  chapel  of  a  hospital  founded  by  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Doudeauville  after  the  death  of  their  daugliter,  Mme.  de  Ras- 
tignac. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       71 

beginning  to  be  tired  of  waiting  for  answers  which  she 
assuredly  will  not  receive ;  she  talked  of  her  return  to 
Geneva  as  a  thing  unalterable,  inevitable,  and  of  her 
adieus  to  her  peaceable  retreat  as  a  painful  trial. 
You  know  how  troubled  I  am  at  our  unhappy  friend's 
changes  of  residence;  consequently,  my  thoughts  dwell 
more  than  ever  upon  her,  and  I  shall  be  uneasy  if  I 
remain  long  without  hearing  from  her.  She  recom- 
mends us  to  pray;  you  see  what  an  excellent  idea 
your  neuvaine  is !  She  accuses  me  of  being  a  little 
too  severe,  and  especially  in  what  concerns  you.  But 
while  deeply  distressed  at  your  situation,  your  isola- 
tion, as  seems  doubly  natural,  since  she  reproaches 
herself  with  being  the  cause,  she  pays  a  tribute  of 
esteem  and  respect  to  the  noble  temper  you  show; 
and  how  could  it  be  otherwise?  It  ought  the  more 
to  impress  her  from  the  fact  that  with  all  her  great 
qualities,  and,  one  might  add,  with  all  her  marvellous 
gifts,  she  would  be  wholly  incapable  of  courage  of 
this  sort.  For  my  part,  I  find  myself  inwardly  ad- 
miring it  with  the  joy  of  a  friend,  if  I  may  so  express 
myself,  sympathizing  with  the  effort  it  may  cost  you, 
but,  at  the  same  time,  filled  with  pride  and  satisfaction 
at  this  noble  victory.  I  am  not  disposed  to  quarrel 
with  the  sentiments  which  have  made  you  so  strong. 
As  for  those  you  express  in  your  letter,  one  cannot  but 
respect  them:  and  however  exaggerated  or  inexact 
they  appear  to  me,  it  is  not  by  letter  I  should  try  to 
refute  them;  that  should  be  reserved  for  long  con- 
versations, where  speech  is  as  rapid  as  thought,  and 


72  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

where  you  allow  me  to  grow  too  excited  for  a  time 
only  because  the  next  moment  is  quick  to  bring  its  cor- 
rective. If  any  exaggeration  could  ever  be  praise- 
worthy, it  would  be  in  the  case  of  trust  in  Divine 
mercy.  If  the  only  inference  we  draw  from  it  be  one 
of  indulgence  and  of  hope  for  others,  nothing  can  be 
better;  but  as  to  a  personal  application,  I  must  tell 
you,  to  cite  my  own  experience,  that  I  have  never 
examined  thoroughly  my  own  heart,  never  passed  in 
review  my  own  life,  without  a  deep  sense  of  the  justice 
that  should  counterbalance  mercy.  It  is  in  the  union 
of  these  two  attributes  —  both  infinite  as  the  Being  we 
adore  —  that  the  complete  solution  of  this  moral  mys- 
tery is  found.  But  see,  aimahle  amie,  how  I  let  myself 
go  on  discussing  grave  matters  in  anticipation  of  the 
time  when  we  shall  resume  our  debates  by  your  fireside. 
I  wish  I  could  have  that  pleasure  oftener.  There  is  a 
young  man  here,  more  active  than  I,  befoi-e  whom  I 
play  the  prudent,  but  whom  I  really  envy  for  being 
able  to  talk  of  his  excursions.  Could  not  a  pretext  for 
one  be  found  in  a  certain  comedy  which  I  think  I  have 
heard  talked  about,  though  you  say  nothing  of  it,  any 
more  than  you  do  of  your  family  visits,  with  which  I 
am  much  pleased  ?  You  are  very  kind  to  ask  for  details 
of  my  life  here,  which  passes  very  quietly.  I  begin  to 
perceive  that  it  draws  near  its  close.  I  read  tragedies 
to  them,  once  or  twice  a  week,  in  the  salon,  with  great 
success.  I  do  not  choose  the  most  exciting.  Yester- 
day it  was  '  Mithridate,'  in  which  you  would  have 
rendered  well  the  part  of  the  pure  and  proud  Monirae. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       73 

Adieu ;  a  thousand  tender  homages.  Adrien  an- 
nounces that  he  will  be  here  on  Monday,  the  9th.  I 
have  a  great  desire  and  need  to  talk  with  him ;  he  still 
says  nothing  to  me  of  his  ulterior  projects,  which  I  shall 
neither  approve  nor  oppose." 

Mme.  Recamier's  favorite  cousin,  the  Baroness  de 
Dalmassy,  was  now  her  companion  at  Chalons,  in  place 
of  the  Marchioness  de  Catellan.  Mme.  de  Dalmassy 
having  heard  that  M.  de  Montmorency  intended  paying 
a  visit  to  her  exiled  relative,  became  alarmed,  and, 
without  her  cousin's  knowledge,  endeavored  to  dis- 
suade him  from  it,  supposing  that  it  would  be  displeas- 
ing to  the  government. 

M.  de  Montmorency  was  much  offended  at  her  lettei-, 
and  paid  no  heed  to  its  recommendations ;  nor  did  he, 
in  his  reply,  conceal  his  sentiments  :  — 

"  MoNTMiRAiL,  January  2,  1812. 

"  I  shall  answer,  Madame,  very  plainly  and  frankly 
the  letter  you  have  done  me  the  honor  to  write  me.  I 
will  not  disavow  the  pain  you  foresaw  it  would  cause 
me,  not  solely  because  of  the  sacrifice  you  ask  of  me ; 
real  as  that  sacrifice  is,  I  think  I  would  do  even  more, 
if  it  were  necessary,  for  the  happiness  of  Madame,  your 
cousin.  What  grieves  me  more  is  to  think  that  a 
friend,  whose  ofiice  it  is  to  console,  and  one,  too,  so 
well  fitted  for  the  task,  should  —  thinking  to  be  simply 
prudent  —  create  fresh  annoyances  both  for  herself 
and  for  others  whose  position  is  already  sufiiciently 
painful  without  its  being  needlessly  aggravated.  I 
4 


74  MADAME   Rl^CAMIER 

have  myself  already  more  than  once  met  with  some- 
thing similar,  much  to  the  sui-prise  of  your  cousin's 
noble  nature.  We  thoroughly  discussed  the  matter 
together  when  I  was  last  at  Chalons ;  it  was  diflScult 
for  us  to  conceive  that  the  usual  opportunities  of  per- 
sonal intercourse  should  be  denied  to  two  persons, 
known  to  have  been  friends  previously,  and  against 
whom  the  same  measure  has  been  meted  out,  and  ap- 
parently for  the  same  cause.  If  the  unfortunate,  as 
they  are  styled,  cannot  see  each  other  like  other  people, 
and  are  exposed  to  the  risk  of  compromising  them- 
selves if  they  pay  each  other  any  attentions,  I  do  not 
well  see  what  is  left  them.  I  shall  always  esteem 
myself  happy  to  have  held  these  thoughts  in  common 
with  a  person  whom  I  had  long  known  as  a  beautiful 
and  amiable  woman,  but  whose  courage  and  noble  del- 
icacy under  recent  circumstances  inspire  me  equally 
with  esteem  and  the  desire  to  imitate  them.  We  have 
promised,  moreover,  to  trust  each  other  in  regard  to  mat- 
ters of  this  kind,  and  to  deal  with  them  without  the  aid 
of  intermediaries.  Consequently,  when  Madame,  your 
cousin,  by  the  same  post  which  brought.me  your  letter, 
so  kindly  expresses  a  wish  to  see  me,  I  am  not  tempted 
to  bec^in  with  her  a  course  of  excuses  and  dissimulation 
by  which  she  herself  would  never  be  deceived.  Be- 
sides, I  really  should  not  know  how  t©  set  about  it. 
It  is  very  possible  that  your  wishes  may  be  gratified, 
through  no  merit  of  mine,  and  that  I  may  have  to  wait 
a  long  time  for  permission  to  leave  this  place ;  but  if  it 
does  come,  as  I  cannot  go  any  nearer  to  Pai-is,  I  have 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       lb 

no  other  road  open  to  me  but  that  of  Chalons,  and  I 
cannot  believe  that  you  would  have  me  pass  through 
that  town  without  having  the  honor  of  seeing  Madame, 
your  cousin,  and  yourself,  Madame,  however  much  I 
may  regret  that  your  reasons  have  failed  to  convince 
me.  I  shall  think  I  have  conciliated  the  interests  of 
friendship  and  prudence  by  restricting  myself  to  a  few 
days'  sojourn,  I  might  beg  you,  moreover,  to  observe 
that  a  similar  visit,  in  the  beginning  of  November,  has 
had  none  of  those  grave  results  you  seem  to  fear,  and 
also  that  I  have,  indeed,  imposed  upon  myself  some 
sacrifices,  even  in  those  things  in  which  I  thought 
myself  more  free,  since,  being  at  a  distance  of  fifteen 
leagues  only  from  Madame,  your  cousin,  I  have  allowed 
nearly  two  months  to  pass  without  making  any  of 
those  excursions  such  as  I  have  envied  my  son-in-law. 

"  I  beg  you,  Madame,  to  accept  his  humble  respects 
as  well  as  my  own." 


MATTHIEU   DE    MONTMORENCY    TO    MME.    E^CAMIER. 

"  MoNTMiEAiL,  January  3,  1812. 
"I  have,  aimable  amie,  an  altogether  exceptional 
opportunity  of  sending  this,  and  you  will  perhaps  at 
the  same  time  receive  a  visit  which  is  at  least  of  such 
a  nature  as  not  to  alarm  the  most  timid.  My  friend- 
ship will  be  able  to  pour  itself  out  with  a  little  less  re- 
serve, and  I  shall  anticipate  by  a  few  hours  the  reply 
that  I  proposed  to  make  to  your  last  letter  to-morrow 
morning  at  the  latest.     That  letter  has  made  me  truly 


76  3fADAME    RJ^CAMIER 

happy!  How  glad  I  am  to  find  myself  mistaken  in  my 
distrustful  and  presumptuous  fears,  —  in  my  truly  rash 
judgments!  How  you  reassure  me;  how  sweetly  and 
modestly  you  bring  forward  your  triumphant  reasoning ! 
It  gives  me  the  most  heartfelt  satisfaction,  and  I  thank 
God  for  it.  Your  midnight  mass  also  greatly  interested 
me.  I  am  much  edified  by  what  you  tell  me  of  the  one  at 
Chalons.  I  would  have  made  you  acquainted  with  similar 
ones  in  Paris  had  you  wushed  it ;  and,  in  fine,  if  you 
would  follow  regularly  the  observances  ordained  by  our 
religion,  I  am  inwardly  convinced  that  you  Avould  enjoy 
them  greatly,  and  that  after  a  time  you  would  find  that 
you  had  more  of  that  sentiment  of  faith  which  now 
seems  so  strange  to  you.  Good  M.  Duval,^  to  whom  I 
mentioned  the  subject  yesterday,  is  entirely  of  my 
opinion.  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  the  feeling 
you  show  in  regard  to  my  arrival.  I  should  like  very 
much  to  be  able  to  fix  the  day ;  I  at  first  proposed  to 
start  about  this  time  ;  but  since  my  chains  have  been 
drawn  still  tighter,  and  I  must  now  wait  for  permission 
before  I  can  stir,  I  am  condemned  to  uncei-tainty.  I,  and, 
worse  still,  those  about  me  watch  the  arrival  of  every 
mail ;  but  it  is  evident  that  there  was  no  intention  of 
replying  to  the  prefect's  first  application,  othermse  it 
would  have  been  done  long  ago.  I  only  hope  that  his 
own  journey  may  not  cause  delay  in  sending  the 
answer,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  will  undoubtedly 
come  by  way  of  Chalons.     If  you  have  any  means  of 

'  The  abbe  Legris-Duval. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       77 

ascertaining  tliat  fact  from  the  person  who  opens  the 
packets  in  his  absence,  —  naturally,  and  without  eager- 
ness or  anxiety, — you  will  do  me  a  favor  if  you  will 
make  use  of  them.  I  have  no  need  to  request  you,  in 
regard  to  this  matter,  to  act,  as  in  all  the  rest,  with 
the  same  simplicity  and  generosity  that  you  show  in 
your  personal  affairs.  Why  do  you  talk  of  envying 
other  people  any  thing?  It  is  you  who  have  more 
dignity  than  us  all,  and  you  seem  to  me  to  be  the  type, 
the  model  of  what  one  ought  to  be  in  our  position. 
Not  only  Madame,  your  cousin,  —  I  beg  her  pardon, — 
but  nearly  all  women  and  all  men,  with  a  few  excep- 
tions, must  fail  to  understand  you  or  to  agree  with 
you.  In  so  far  as  it  makes  life  more  pleasant  to  you,  1 
am  delighted  that  she  is  with  you.  Perhaps  I  might 
prefer  to  have  it  otherwise  when  I  come  to  see  you. 
It  would  be  very  hard,  however,  for  you  to  be  deprived 
of  the  pleasure  of  her  society. 

"It  is  simply,  then,  a  small  provisional  establish- 
ment that  our  friend  has  at  Geneva.  It  seems  impos- 
sible that  the  great  settlement,^  about  which  I  was 
anxiously  expecting  news,  should  not  be  put  off  until 
the  spring,  with  this  suit  going  on,  and  the  heavy 
snow-storms  and  very  severe  weather.  What  a  winter 
is  before  her,  and  when  will  she  come  to  a  decision ! 
How  do  you  stand  this  cold  weather?  Never  leave 
me  long  without  hearing  from  you,  until  I  come  myself, 
if  I  can.     The  chateau  in  general  thinks  of  dispersing 

1  The  projected  departure  of  Mme.  de  Stael  for  America. 


78  MADAME  R£CAMIER 

next  week.     I  renew   the  assurance  of  kind   regards 
from  us  all. 

"It  is  possible  that  a  letter  for  me  from  a  neighbor- 
ing town  may  be  sent  to  your  care ;  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  keep  it  for  me,  unless  you  have  some  very 
safe  means  of  sending  it." 


THE   COUNTESS   DE    BOIONB    TO   MME.    BtCAMIER. 

"  Paris,  January  9,  1812. 

"  I  owe  myself  an  apology  for  not  sooner  replying  to 
your  kind  letter;  by  delaying  so  long  to  converse  with 
you  I  have  deprived  myself  of  a  great  pleasure.  But 
my  poor  brother  has  caused  us  such  lively  and  well- 
founded  anxiety,  that  I  have  had  no  heart  to  think  of 
any  thing  else.  He  has  not  yet  left  his  room ;  but  they 
assure  us  that  there  is  nothing  more  to  fear.  I  have 
punctually  delivered  all  your  gracious  messages,  and 
they  were  received,  I  thought,  with  the  thanks  they 
deserved. 

'*  I  believe  your  fears  are  ill-founded  ;  you  are  the  last 
person  to  be  forgotten ;  and  it  is  not  because  you  are 
amiable,  lovely,  charming,  and  that  every  one  remembers 
you  with  pleasure,  in  a  way  that  flatters  his  self-esteem, 
and  his  heart,  too,  —  if  he  happen  to  have  one,  —  but 
because  your  gentle,  natural,  and  captivating  kindness 
of  heart  has  discovered  the  secret  of  making  every  one 
believe  that  his  fate  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
you.  You  know  that  1  am  in  love  with  this  goodness 
of  heart,  —  a  charm  which  I  have  found  in  no  other 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       79 

woman.  I  have  told  you  a  hundred  times,  and  thought 
it  a  thousand,  that  what  makes  you  so  seductive  is  your 
kind-heartedness.  Perhaps  I  am  the  only  one  who  has 
ever  dared  to  tell  you  so  ;  it  seems  so  absurd  to  praise 
the  good  heart  of  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  Europe ! 
Well !  I  am  convinced — if  it  were  possible  to  define  the 
influence  you  exert  —  that  this  same  goodness  of  heart 
has  greater  power  than  all  your  other  more  brilliant 
advantages,  and  gives  them  an  additional  force.  So, 
Madame,  it  is  because  you  are  good  that  you  have 
turned  so  many  heads,  and  reduced  to  despair  so  many 
poor  wretches ;  they  do  not  suspect  it,  but  it  is  true, 
nevertheless. 

"  Ah !  how  right  you  are  when  you  say  that  this  is  a 
forgetful  world,  and  especially  of  the  dead.  I  pass  my 
life  with  people  who  for  years  were  the  most  intimate 
friends  of  poor  Mme.  du  Clusel,  held  the  first  place  in 
her  afiections,  and  yet  nothing,  either  in  their  manner 
or  their  looks,  shows  that  the  day  they  parted  from 
her  for  ever  was  to  them  in  any  way  difierent  from 
other  days,  either  past  or  to  come.  To  see  such  things 
is  better  than  a  sermon  ;  and,  were  there  any  need  of 
it,  would  thoroughly  disgust  one  with  such  fi-iend- 
ships ! 

"  Then  there  is  that  poor  Mme.  d'Avaux,  who  died 
yesterday ;  she  had  a  great  many  so-called  friends ; 
perhaps  they  will  think  of  her  for  two  days,  and  talk 
about  her  for  three.  But  I  perceive  that  I  am  sending 
you  an  extract  from  the  register  of  deaths ;  and  while 
I  am  in  the  humor,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  Mme. 


80  MADAME  RlSCAMIER 

r 

de  Catellan  assured  me  that  she  was  very  easy  to  live 
with  since  she  was  dead !  I  did  not  exactly  understand 
what  that  meant ;  be  kind  enough  to  explain  it  to  me. 
You  know  that,  in  spite  of  this  poor  pleasantry,  I 
appreciate  and  admire  the  true  worth  of  your  friend. 
She  says  that  you  ask  her  for  marriages  and  love-affairs, 
but  that  people  do  not  fall  in  love  with  one  another 
this  year.  Alas!  yes,  Madame,  they  do  fall  in  love, 
and  very  palpably,  too ;  but  you  know  all  about  it ; 
the  dead  who  write  to  you  daily  have  not  kept  you 
in  ignorance. 

"  I  made  Adrien  tell  me  every  thing  about  you,  and 
you  do  not  know  with  what  interest  I  listened.  I  must 
tell  you  that  I  have  been  very  much  touched  at  the 
friendship  he  has  shown  us  during  my  brother's  illness. 

"  I  wish  that  you  would  send  me  a  kind  word  for 
Mrae.  de  S^gur ;  she  is  always  talking  about  you,  and 
not  because  she  wants  to  find  a  subject  of  conversation 
which  would  be  agreeable  to  me,  but  because  she  is 
really  interested  in  you.  I  should  be  very  glad  if  you 
would  entrust  me  with  some  friendly  message  for  her, 
without  allowing  it  to  appear  that  I  suggested  it.  She 
is  still  suffering,  but  sweet  and  resigned.  As  I  am  not 
in  her  confidence,  I  know  only  what  I  see,  and  I  do 
not  think  that  she  has  any  new  cause  of  grief. 

"  M.  Hochet  comes  sometimes  to  see  me ;  he  has  ren- 
dered great  service  to  my  father  in  that  affair  of  the 
mine,  which  is  not  settled  yet.  It  has  been  a  pleasure 
to  remember  that  it  is  to  you  we  owe  his  friendship. 
There  is  another  friend  of  yours,  less  disposed  in  our 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       81 

favor,  M.  Deg^rando.     He  appears  determined  to  op- 
pose my  father  in  the  department  of  the  Interior. 

"  Confess  that  I  have  indemnified  myself  pretty  well 
for  my  silence  :  I  am  almost  ashamed  of  this  idle  talk 
and  the  nonsense  of  which  it  is  made  up.  Do  you  know 
that  the  return  of  M.  de  Nesselrode  is  announced? 
M.  de  Tchernicheflf  ^  told  me  of  it,  assui'ing  me,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  was  at  liberty  to  mention  it  because 
he  did  not  know  it  officially  :  this,  I  hope,  is  sufficiently 
ministerial.  I  have  heard  from  Tuffiakin,^  at  Moscow ; 
in  replying  to  him  I  said  a  great  deal  about  you. 
Good-day,  dear  Madame ;  you  will  have  to  beat  me  to 
make  me  stop  talking.  All  my  family  cherish  and  re- 
gret you,  and  I  first  and  foremost." 


MATTHIEU   DE   MONTMOBENCT  TO   MME.  KfeCAMIBE. 

"  MoNTMiEAiL,  January  18,  1812. 

"  It  is  kind  of  you  to  reproach  me ;  it  is  I  who  have 
been  tempted  to  do  the  same  to  you,  and  to  think  that 
you  were  neglecting  me  very  much  in  your  correspond- 
ence. The  reason  you  give  makes  amends  for  all.  I 
have  been  counting  also  on  taking  you  by  surprise  this 


1  M.  de  TchernichefE  was  then  Russian  ambassador  at  Paris ; 
tliere  was  some  talk  of  replacing  him  by  M.  de  Nesselrode. 

'^  Prince  Tuffiakin,  a  great  Russian  lord,  brother,  I  think,  of  the 
Princess  Dolgorouki ;  he  was  passionately  fond  of  Paris,  lived 
there  a  long  time,  and  died  there.  He  used  to  go  often  to  Mme. 
Recamier's. 

4*  F 


82  MADAME   R^CAMIER 

evening,  at  about  six  or  seven  o'clock.  My  trunks  were 
nearly  packed ;  all  my  late  letters  made  me  feel  sure 
that  I  should  receive  by  yesterday's  post  the  necessary 
permission  ;  nothing  came.  In  all  probability  it  will 
arrive  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  leave  on  Monday.  How- 
ever, do  not  be  anxious  if  you  do  not  see  me  on  that 
day.  I  postpone  until  that  moment,  always  so  pleas- 
ant to  look  forward  to,  a  great  many  things  I  have  to 
say  to  you. 

"  Permit  me,  aimahle  amie,  to  ask  of  you  a  little 
favor.  Will  you  inquire,  simply  and  naturally,  at  my 
inn  at  Chalons,  on  Sunday  or  Monday  morning,  for  one 
or  two  gentlemen  of  Rheims,  who  were  to  be  there,  and 
with  whom  I  have  business.  I  would  like  you  to  beg 
them  with  many  apologies  to  wait  for  me  until  Tues- 
day. Adieu;  a  thousand,  thousand  tender  respects. 
Sosth^ne,  who  is  in  Paris,  has  left  his  wife  with  me 
until  my  departure,  which  is  another  inducement  to 
leave  as  soon  as  I  can,  that  they  may  not  be  sepa- 
rated too  long.  I  am  very  confident  that  I  shall  hear 
from  Chalons  without  delay.  Adieu,  until  Monday,  I 
hope." 

M.  de  Montmorency  received  at  last  the  permission 
he  had  asked  for;  he  j^assed  three  days  at  Chalons,  and 
then  continued  his  journey  toward  the  South  of  France, 
whence  he  wrote :  — 

"  Beziers,  February  6,  1812. 

"I,  too,  have  been  to  see  the  fountain  ofVaucluse. 
I  do  not  send  you  a  description  of  it ;  I  know  too  well, 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       88 

aimable  amie,  —  without  reproach  be  it  said,  —  how 
you  read  descriptions ;  and  besides  it  is  not  necessary 
to  repeat  what  others  have  already  said.  Nevertheless, 
though  I  have  had  the  privilege,  almost  unique,  on  ac- 
count of  my  time  being  circumscribed,  of  visiting  this 
picturesque  and  truly  memorable  spot  during  a  fright- 
ful rain-storm,  it  inspired  me  with  much  interest. 
You,  aimable  amie,  could  not  be  forgotten  there,  as 
you  never  can  be ;  I  had  already  spoken  of  you  with 
our  Lyonnese  friend,^  who  took  me  to  see  Madame,  your 
sister-in-law.  I  anticipated  the  pleasure  of  renewing 
the  same  subject  of  conversation  with  our  Baron  ^  at 
Avignon,  but  he  did  not  wait  for  me,  having  gone  in 
search  of  a  milder  climate  at  Marseilles,  where  he  will 
remain  for  a  time.  I  have  found  traces  of  him  ;  he  was, 
however,  not  much  in  the  way  of  being  known  and  ap- 
preciated by  the  people  to  whom  one  of  my  cousins 
has  introduced  me,  and  who  have  treated  me  with 
the  kindest  hospitality ;  finally,  I  have  travelled  with 
your  souvenir  as  with  that  of  friends  truly  intimate. 
These  thoughts  and  my  books  have  kept  me  sweet 
company  ;  I  have  had  almost  constantly  a  fine  tempera- 
ture, and  to-day  admirable  weather,  so  that  I  could  see 
the  Mediterranean  from  the  road  as  well  as  from  the 
lofty  platform  of  Montpelier.  You  gave  me  permission 
to  send  you  from  that  town  some  slight  token  of  re- 
membrance. I  have  sent  to  my  wife,  asking  her  to 
transmit   them   to   you,   some   small   bottles   of  rose- 

1  Camille  Jordan.  ^  xhe  Baron  de  Vogt. 


84  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

water  and  some  of  the  best  sachets.  These  perfumea 
may  be  carried  an  immense  distance  without  losing  any 
of  their  strength ;  I  might  find  in  them  an  emblem  of 
my  faithful  friendship,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  be  too 
poetic,  even  on  returning  from  Vaucluse.  I  am  only 
telling  the  truth  when  I  say  that  the  distance  and  long 
separation  from  you  are  the  principal  and  almost  only 
inconveniences  of  my  new  situation.  I  feel  the  same 
in  regard  to  another  friend,  to  whom,  passing  within 
forty  leagues  of  her,  I  wrote.  My  heart  was  sore  at 
not  being  able  to  profit  by  this  proximity.  I  await  im- 
patiently for  news  of  her  establishment  in  the  country. 
I  hope  that  you  have  heard  from  her  yourself,  but  are 
still  as  admirably  discreet  as  ever  in  writing  to  me.  I 
trust  that  you  still  maintain  that  union  of  dignity  and 
good  sense  to  which  I  have  paid  such  sincere  homage ; 
give  me  some  direct  proof  of  it ;  do  not  let  me  remain 
ignorant  of  any  thing  which  concerns  you,  or  of  the 
least  change  that  may  occur.  My  most  constant,  most 
sincere  prayers  are  for  you ;  we  are  approaching  a 
period  especially  consecrated  to  prayer ;  true  friends  are 
no  losers  by  it ;  try  to  employ  it  well,  and,  above  all, 
to  end  it  well.  As  for  me,  I  shall  rest  from  my  journey 
among  some  very  quiet  people.  I  hope  to  arrive  the 
day  after  to-morrow,  and  hear  from  you  then.  Receive 
once  more  my  affectionate  regards." 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       85 

THE  COUNTESS  DE  BOIGNE  TO  MME.  EECAMIEK. 

"  Saturday,  March  28,  1812. 

"  Youl'  friend  is  so  good  as  to  take  charge  of  a  few 
lines  from  me  ;  I  am  conscious  that  they  will  lose  much 
in  being  brought  by  her ;  but,  nevertheless,  I  wish  to 
take  advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  assure  you  of  my 
tender  fi-iendship.  Adrien  is  always  telling  me  that 
you  send  him  charming  messages  for  me  ;  I  ask  to  see 
your  letters,  he  promises,  and  then  pretends  that  he 
cannot  show  them,  and  I  tell  him  it  is  a  device  of  his 
vanity  to  excuse  his  forgetfulness.  We  quarrel,  and 
then  we  make  up  in  talking  of  you,  in  whom,  vanity 
apart,  he  takes  a  very  lively  and  tender  interest.  We 
have  had  a  long  discussion  in  regard  to  what  was  best 
to  do  in  your  position,  and  this  is  the  plan  which  ap- 
pears to  me  to  have  the  least  inconveniences  for  you. 
But  it  is  for  you,  for  you  alone,  that  we  must  make  our 
calculations ;  and  you  have  unfortunately  but  too  well 
proved  that  the  lovely  Juliette,  in  whom  so  many  people 
are  interested,  is  very  little  considered  in  your  projects. 
To  return  to  my  plan ;  I  will  tell  you  that  if  I  were 
in  your  place,  I  would  go  to  Vienna,  and  take  up  my 
residence  there. 

"You  would  be  welcomed  with  transport,  and  you 
would  find  yourself  from  the  first  among  people  that 
you  know.  The  rate  of  exchange  would  augment  your 
slender  income  sufficiently  to  afibrd  you  every  comfort 
requisite  for  a  foreigner ;  that  is  to  say,  a  small  establish- 
ment and  a  carriage.    At  first  you  would  have  to  go 


86  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

into  society  more  than  suits  your  tastes ;  but  as  sov)n  as 
you  had  shown  that  you  were  something  better  than  a 
pretty  woman,  when  you  had  made  a  circle  for  your- 
self, you  would  be  able  to  resume  your  old  habits, 
well  assured  that,  when  once  you  had  become  known, 
your  fireside  would  never  be  deserted.  Such  is  the  ad- 
vice the  most  genuine  interest  impels  me  to  offer.  As 
to  your  plan  of  travelling  in  Italy,  I  think  it  wholly  pre- 
posterous. You  must  not  deceive  yourself;  the  true 
need  of  your  life  is  society  and  conversation.  In  Italy 
the  one  and  the  other  are  null,  especially  now  when 
there  are  very  few  strangers  there,  for  they  alone  sup- 
plied what  life  there  was.  You  love  the  arts;  yes, 
as  a  diversion,  and  because  you  have  a  correct  and 
delicate  taste  which  you  wish  to  cultivate.  But  I  ask 
you  do  the  arts,  and  even  a  beautiful  country,  sufiice  to 
interest  your  heart  and  imagination  ?  No,  certainly 
not.  Very  well!  you  will  find  nothing  else  in  Italy; 
besides,  you  will  very  soon  be  tired  of  wandering  from 
city  to  city  without  aim  or  object.  Travelling  may  be 
an  agreeable  fancy  when  we  are  looking  forward  to  a 
speedy  return  to  a  beloved  country,  to  tender  hopes, 
and  the  ties  that  a  short  absence  only  draw  the  closer ; 
but  be  sure  that  to  travel  only  to  kill  time  is  the  worst 
thing  one  can  do.  The  movement  of  the  body  increases 
the  uneasiness  of  the  mind ;  we  imagine  that  we  are 
worse  off,  because  we  persuade  ourselves  that  we  shall 
be  better  with  change  of  place,  and  the  spot  where  we 
are  is  ever  that  which  displeases  us  the  most.  Witness 
that  poor  Duchess  de  Chevreuse,  who,  by  the  way,  is 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       87 

very  ill  indeed.  But  Mme.  de  Catellan  will  tell  you 
all  this.  I  say  nothing  to  you  of  ourselves,  for  I  am 
sure  you  will  question  her  in  a  kindly  spirit,  and  that 
she  will  reply  in  the  same  strain;  but  I  have  not  been 
willing  to  leave  it  to  another  to  speak  to  you  of  your- 
self and  of  my  unchangeable  friendship." 


CAMirLE  JORDAN  TO  MME.  RECAMIEK. 

"  Lyons,  February  15,  1812. 

"  Dear  Juliette,  —  First  came  your  letter,  which 
rejoiced  my  heart,  and  then  the  friend  who  had  seen  you, 
and  with  whom  I  had  a  long  conversation  about  you. 
Every  day  I  have  been  meaning  to  reply  to  your  letter, 
but  one  trouble  after  another  has  completely  absorbed 
me.  —  Cruel  disgrace  of  a  prefect  whose  wife  I  dearly 
loved ;  a  report  of  a  new  and  laborious  mission  which 
will  long  banish  the  friend  ^  whom  I  was  expecting  to 
see  in  Pai'is  this  spring ;  finally,  the  scene  of  desolation 
which  for  several  days  past  has  been  constantly  before 
our  eyes.  The  Rhone  has  overflowed  its  banks,  and 
swept  furiously  over  Les  Brotteaux,^  overturning  houses, 
and  causing  numerous  deaths  and  losses  of  every  kind. 
It  is  imjDossible  at  present  to  estimate  the  extent  of  the 
damage ;  but  it  is  immense.  There  has  not  been  for  a 
hundred  years  so  great  and  disastrous  a  rise  of  the 

1  Degerando. 

2  Les  Brotteaux,  a  suburb  of  Lyons,  now  one  of  the  finest  quar- 
ters of  the  city.  —  Tk. 


88  •       MADAME   RlSCAMIER 

river.  So  you  see  I  have  been  very  sad,  and  am  so 
still.  But  for  the  moment  I  shall  try  to  console  myself 
by  fixing  my  thoughts  upon  your  sweet  image.  Our 
friend  the  traveller  seemed  to  be  wholly  under  the 
spell  of  those  balmy  influences  we  all  feel  in  your  pres- 
ence; he  was  delighted  to  see  there,  as  elsewhere,  all 
hearts  rendering  you  homage. 

"  You  gave  him  not  a  word  for  me ;  you  were  re- 
posing upon  your  five  pages.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  charm- 
ing letter ;  but  it  recalled  a  very  j^ainful  remembrance. 
Is  it  possible  that  because  no  letter  came,  you  really 
doubted  me?  Does  your  confidence  in  my  afiection, 
after  so  many  years,  depend  upon  the  faithfulness  or 
unfaithfulness  of  the  post  ?  Oh !  sad  progress  of  the 
scepticism  of  the  age ! 

"  You  speak  too  flatteringly  of  some  slight  works  of 
mine.  I  do  not  know  whether,  at  another  time,  they 
might  not  be  worth  publishing ;  but  I  am  quite  sure  that 
obscurity  best  befits  them  in  this  age  of  other  successes, 
and  of  a  very  different  sort  of  fame.  It  is  enough  for 
me  if  they  serve  sometimes  to  interest  my  friends,  use- 
fully employ  my  leisure  hours,  and  prepare  me  to  edu- 
cate my  children,  which  is  the  great  and  agreeable  task 
of  my  domestic  life. 

"  What  do  you  say  of  our  friend  ^  in  public  life  ?  of 
this  terrible  distance  ?  I  am  quite  dismayed  at  it.  It 
grievously  upsets  my  plan  of  a  journey  with  my  wife  ; 
still  I  do  not  quite  give  it  up  yet.     If,  failing  them,  I 

1  Evidently  M.  Degerando. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       89 

should  meet  you,  what  a  consolation  it  would  be !  It 
seems  to  me  that  it  cannot  be  long  delayed,  that  your 
ostracism  must  soon  come  to  an  end.  Certainly  I 
write  occasionally  to  the  friend  of  whom  you  speak. 
I  pity  her  profoundly,  for  she  suffers  more  than  you  do, 
and  has  not  your  patience.  I  presume  that  the  worthy 
Baron  continues  to  direct  toward  you  the  stream  of 
his  sensibility ;  as  for  me,  he  entertains  me  chiefly  with 
his  observations  upon  philanthropic  enterprises,  which 
afford  me  much  pleasure ;  I  find  much  to  leara  at  his 
school. 

"  We  have  just  been  through  a  very  gay  carnival, 
but  in  which  I  have  taken  little  part.  I  seldom  go 
beyond  our  family  circles.  I  could  never,  I  think,  be 
fond  of  society  unless  it  were  animated  and  embellished 
by  your  presence.  I  have,  nevertheless,  met  in  the 
whirl  the  dissipated  Lady  whose  face  always  lights  up 
at  the  recollection  of  you.  We  talk  of  you  with  Regny. 
I  also  had  a  conversation  the  other  day,  of  which  you 
were  the  object,  with  your  kind  family,  with  your 
sister-in-law,  so  steeped  in  good  works.  My  Julie  is  at 
this  present  moment  doing  penance  for  a  few  dancing 
parties,  by  a  severe  cold  and  painful  inflammation. 
But  in  the  midst  of  her  suffering,  she  charges  me  with 
affectionate  messages  to  you.  My  three  children  are 
well.  Everybody  tells  me  that  Caroline  is  very  charm- 
ing, and  I  allow  myself  to  be  convinced.  I  wholly  ap- 
prove of  you  for  having  with  you  an  adopted  child,  — 
an  image  of  maternity.  I  presume,  also,  that  you  have 
always  with  you  for  company  some  of  your  excellent 


90  MADAME   RlSCAMIER 

relatives.  Happy  are  those  who  can  thus  see  you, 
minister  to  you,  and  enjoy  the  deliglitful  intercourse 
that  I  found  so  pleasant,  and  that  I  often  look  back 
upon  sorrowfully ;  for  I  love  you,  always  will  love  you. 
Oh !  ungrateful  one,  sceptic,  atheist,  that  you  are,  to 
have  a  moment's  doubt  of  holy  friendship  !  " 


ABBIEN   DE    MONTMORENCY    TO    MME.    RECAMIEB. 

"  March  28,  1812. 

"  I  write  you,  dear  friend,  with  a  lighter  heart  and  a 
little  more  freely,  by  your  fiithful  friend.^  I  am  going 
to  dine  with  her,  carry  her  my  letter,  ray  best  wishes 
for  you,  and  my  envy  at  her  happiness  and  indepen- 
dence in  being  able  to  go  to  see  you.  Alas!  I  see 
nothing  but  ill-fortune ;  I  anticipate  nothing  good,  no 
indulgence  for  my  poor  exiled  friends,  not  even  for  her 
who  is  incontestably  the  most  unhappy  of  all,  poor 
Hermessinde.^  I  have  positive  knowledge  that  in  her 
case  they  will  ever  be  inexorable.  I  am  going  to  con- 
fide a  secret  to  you,  which  will  explain  why  I  have 
been  silent  for  several  days.  I  would  have  liked  to 
reply  to  your  very  sweet  letter,  which  deeply  touched 
and  interested  me.  You  shall  judge  whether  I  did  well 
to  be  silent. 

"  I  received  a  letter  from  the  minister  of  police,^  in- 


i  Mme.  de  Catellan.  '^  The  Duchess  de  Chevreuse. 

'  The  Duke  de  Rovigo. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       91 

viting  me  to  present  myself  at  his  house.  I  had  never 
been  there  before.  For  the  first  time  he  spoke  plainly, 
and  in  the  severest  manner.  He  reproached  me  for 
language  which  I  had  not  held,  but  without  quoting 
the  words.  He  especially  blamed  me  for  the  interest 
I  took  in  the  exiles^  for  my  lamentations  over  them,  and 
my  intimate  relations  with  them  :  all  this,  I  think,  was 
merely  an  exordium  before  coming  to  what  he  calls  my 
neutrality. 

"  Taking  this  for  his  text,  he  went  on  to  tell  me,  in 
the  most  violent  manner,  that  I  had  every  thing  to  fear 
from  his  severity,  &c.  I  cannot  now  go  into  further 
details  ;  what  I  have  said  will  make  it  clear  to  you  that 
I  am  on  the  brink  of  the  abyss.  It  was  not  in  my  heart 
or  ray  nature  to  say  any  thing  in  my  own  defence,  but 
rather  to  take  up  that  of  ray  poor  little  cousin,^  dying 
at  Caen.  There  is  no  hope  for  her ;  she  will  die,  there 
or  elsewhere,  and  very  soon;  but  she  will  not  go  to 
Orleans ;  she  will  not  be  allowed  to  come  twenty  leagues 
nearer,  as  her  unhappy  mother-in-law  hoped,  who  sees 
her  dying  before  her  eyes.  '  Lasciate  ogni  sperama^ 
These  are  the  infernal  words  that  must  be  spoken  to 
her. 

"  As  to  Felicite,  I  doubt  whether  his  change  of  resi- 
dence will  be  an  easy  thing.  Nevertheless,  the  attempt 
will  be  made,  and  permission  asked  for  him  to  live  at 
Orleans,  with  leave  to  go  to  his  estates,  which  are  not 
far  oif.     From  all  this  melancholy  information,  which  I 

i  Duchess  de  Chevreuse. 


92  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

have  obt-ained  in  regard  to  our  situation,  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  we  must  adapt  ourselves  as 
cheerfully  as  we  can  to  the  restrictions  as  first  imposed. 
We  must  not  flatter  ourselves  that  there  will  be  any 
change  for  the  better,  but  see  the  wound  as  deep  as  it 
is,  and  not  count  on  the  generosity  of  hearts  which 
never  soften.  As  for  you,  dear,  it  would,  perhaps,  be 
well,  when  you  no  longer  have  the  friends  with  you 
who  have  made  life  supportable,  to  choose  some  place 
where  the  waters  might  be  beneficial  to  you.  Watering- 
places  have  the  advantage  of  sometimes  bringing  one 
into  I'clations  with  influential  persons  who  may  become 
useful. 

"As  for  me,  I  intend  in  a  month  from  now  to  go 
into  the  country  with  my  son,  and  get  myself  forgotten, 
if  it  be  not  too  late.  I  shall  go  to  Touraine  to  visit  my 
cousin  Amedee,  of  whom  you  have  often  heard  me 
speak ;  and  then  I  shall  wait  for  the  return  of  Felicite, 
and  of  my  brother  and  sister-in-law,  who  will  be  turn- 
ing their  stejDS  northward  at  about  the  same  time ;  that 
is  to  say,  toward  the  end  of  the  month  of  May. 

"  Continue  to  write  me  under  cover  of  M.  Recamier. 
It  is  more  than  ever  necessary  to  employ  indirect  means. 
I  have  had  a  very  kind  but  despaii'ing  letter  from  our 
friend  Albertine's  mother.^  She  has  more  elevation  of 
soul  than  courage,  and  less  resolution  than  elevation. 
I  shall  charge  your  friend  with  a  little  remembrance 
which  1  beg  you  to  keep.     Say  nothing  to  her  of  what 

1  Mme.  de  StaeL 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.        93 

I  have  told  you  in  confidence,  or  of  the  visit  I  have 
made.  We  must  suffer,  be  silent,  and  content  ourselves 
with  our  own  self-respect.  Many,  many  affectionate 
wishes  and  everlasting  attachment." 

Mme.  Recamier  did  not  follow  the  advice  which  the 
friendship  and  prudence  of  the  Countess  de  Boigne  had 
suggested  to  her,  and  which,  from  a  purely  social  and 
worldly  point  of  view,  offered  many  advantages.  But 
so  long  as  Mme.  de  Stael  remained  in  France,  the  lovely 
exile  never  relinquished  the  desire  and  the  hope  of 
rejoining  the  friend  for  whose  sake  she  had  braved  all. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  consumed  with  melancholy  and 
ennui  at  Chalons ;  she  resolved  to  change  her  residence, 
and  chose  Lyons,  which  brought  her  much  nearer  to 
Coppet,  and  where  she  was  sure  of  finding  support  for 
her  youth  and  loneliness  in  the  family  of  M.  Re- 
camier. 

On  arriving  there  she  sent  word  to  Camille  Jordan 
that  she  was  at  the  Hotel  de  I'Europe,  and  awaiting  a 
visit  from  him. 

"  In  how  sad  a  position  do  you  find  me,  dear  friend ! " 
he  replied  to  her  the  13th  of  June,  1812;  "my  wife 
scarcely  recovered  fi-om  a  severe  illness,  and  plunged 
in  deep  grief  by  the  death  of  her  mother,  who  was 
buried  yesterday;  my  daughter  scarcely  convalescent 
fi'om  an  illness  which  put  her  life  in  danger;  all  the 
rest  of  our  household  ill  and  in  mourning ;  I,  still  keep- 
ing up  physically,  but  with    a   heart  made   sore  and 


94  MADAME  RlSCAMIER 

weary  by  troubles  of  all  kinds  during  the  last  three 
months. 

"  Your  arrival  will  shed  a  ray  of  consolation  over  this 
niurht  of  sorrow.  But  I  lament  beforehand  that  I  shall 
have  so  little  leisure  to  see  you,  that  I  can  bring  you 
only  a  sad  countenance,  and  shall  probably  not  be  able 
to  give  you  pleasure  or  be  of  any  use ;  however,  others 
who  love  you,  of  whom  there  are  many  here,  will  be 
eager  to  supply  my  place.  I  promise  myself  much  con- 
solation in  the  haj^piness  of  seeing  you  again,  and  re- 
minding you  how  tenderly  I  am  attached  to  you. 

"  Camille." 

The  sadness  which  had  weighed  upon  Camille  Jordan 
was,  in  fact,  soon  dissijiated ;  reassured  in  regard  to  the 
health  of  those  most  dear  to  him,  he  quickly  regained 
his  usual  spirits,  and  became  himself  again  in  convers- 
ing with  one  who  sympathized  with  him  in  every  lofty 
sentiment  and  every  noble  enthusiasm. 

The  Hotel  de  I'Europe  counted  then  among  its  in- 
mates the  beautiful  and  eccentric  Duchess  de  Chev- 
reuse.  Exiled  four  years  previously,  this  elegant  and 
haughty  lady  of  rank  was  still  expiating  the  crime  of 
resisting  a  command  of  Napoleon.  As  for  Mme.  R&- 
camier,  whenever  she  recalled  the  painful  memories  of 
this  period  of  proscription,  she  was  almost  ready  to 
bless,  she  said,  the  hard  times  which  had  given  her 
good  Ballanche.  It  was,  in  fact,  during  the  summer 
of  1812  that  he  was  introduced  to  her  by  Camille 
Jordan. 


AND  TEE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       9^ 

We  insert  here  in  its  proper  place  a  note  from 
Camille  Jordan,  written  while  Talma  was  making  a 
short  visit  at  Lyons:  — 

"  I  had  hoped  to  meet  you  to-day  in  Mme.  de  Chev- 
reuse's  box,  but  our  ladies,  to  whom  I  spoke  of  it,  seemed 
to  wish  me  to  postpone  attending  the  theatre  out  of 
regard  to  the  recent  death  in  the  family ;  and  I  yield 
to  a  sci'uple  which  is  perhaps  exaggerated,  but  should 
be  respected.  I  shall  therefore  wait  until  the  very  last 
performance.  My  regret  at  being  able  to  hear  so  little 
of  Talma  at  the  theatre  makes  me  desire  more  than 
ever  to  attend  the  prose-reading.  Manage  this  for  me 
if  you  can.  —  I  shall  be  in  town  to-morrow,  and  trust  at 
least  that  I  shall  be  more  fortunate  than  I  was  yester- 
day, when  I  neither  found  you  at  home  nor  at  Mme. 
Delphin's. 

"  I  go  to  dine  with  a  benevolent  society  at  two 
o'clock ;  receive  me,  therefore,  before  that  hour,  if  it  will 
not  inconvenience  you  too  much.  I  should  not  mind 
your  writing  letters,  nor  the  lessons.  You  might  give 
me  to  read  something  interesting  out  of  your  immense 
collection  of  letters  from  the  Prince  of  Prussia,  or  from 
Mme.  de  Stael ;  and  I  would  talk  to  you  again  of  the 
idea  I  have  thought  of  often,  and  which  pleases  me 
more  and  more,  that  you  should  write  memoirs;  a  most 
precious  means,  added  to  others,  for  diverting  your 
mind,  and  beguiling  you  from  the  fatal  need  of  stormy 
emotions.  How  I  wish,  above  all  things,  that  tender 
friendship  did  not  seem  to  you  so  pale  a  thing,  and 
that  mine  were  something  to  you." 


96  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

Sbortly  after,  the  news  of  Mme.  de  Staiil's  departure 
for  Sweden  deprived  Mme.  Recamier  of  all  hopes  of 
rejoining  her  friend,  and  completed  her  discouragement. 
A  prey  to  the  deepest  dejection,  she  had  no  longer 
even  the  courage  to  seek  in  the  faithful  and  warm 
friendship  of  Matthieu  de  Montmorency  the  consola- 
tions his  piety  knew  so  well  how  to  afford  to  suffering 
souls.  She  wrote  to  him  no  more.  This  silence  made 
him  very  uneasy,  and  he  resolved  to  go  to  Lyons  and 
seek  an  interview  with  the  very  dear  friend  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  a  year. 

"  So,  then,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for  me,  airnahle 
arrde^^  he  wrote,  the  22d  of  January,  1813,  "  either  to 
stop  at  or  stay  in  the  city  where  you  live  in  order  to  have 
the  comfort  of  conversing  a  few  moments  with  you.  It 
is  useless  to  hope  for  the  compensation,  insufficient 
though  it  be,  of  occasional  letters,  written  with  some 
degree  of  frankness.  What  do  I  say  ?  You  no  longer 
write  to  me  at  all ;  such  silence  is  really  unheard  of. 
Were  it  not  for  the  trust  you  have  authorized  me  to 
repose  in  you,  might  I  not  even  conclude  that  you 
have  taken  very  little  pains  to  persuade  me  to  come 
to  gee  you  ?  But  I  prefer  rather  to  say  to  myself 
that  you  have  feared  the  annoyance  of  a  little  con- 
cealment from  one^  whom  you  see  frequently.  It  is 
under  cover  of  her  that  I  am  writing  to  you,  informing 
her  at  the  same  time  of  my  coming.     Between  our- 

^  The  Duchess  de  Chevieuse,  his  sister-in-law. 


MADAME    DE    STAEL 

from  an  engraving  by  Miiller 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       97 

selves,  if  it  should  happen  not  to  be  very  agreeable  to 
her,  I  should  think  that  you,  vvitli  your  usual  kindly  in- 
fluence, might  make  all  things  easy.  Finally,  I  think  I 
have  removed  the  obstacles  whicli,  in  certain  circum- 
stances of  position  or  of  family,  I  feared.  I  hope  to  see 
you  Saturday  of  next  week  at  the  latest.  It  is  a  de- 
lightful prospect,  and  I  have  need  to  fortify  myself 
with  it  in  parting  from  those  very  dear  to  me  whom  I 
leave  here.  I  shall  postpone  until  that  long-hoped-for 
time  all  that  interests  us  and  our  common  friends. 
Will  you  ask  the  good  Camille  —  as  I  do  not  wish  to 
give  you  that  trouble  —  if  he  will  be  kind  enough  to  de- 
vote a  few  moments  to  securing  an  apartment  for  me, 
simple,  and  especially  not  too  large,  on  account  of  the 
season.  This  approaching  meeting  enchants  me.  Provi- 
dence, after  all,  is  very  kind  in  all  situations!  We 
shall  often  return  to  this  subject  in  our  conversations. 

"  I  hope  that  Camille  has  kept  for  me  an  instructive 
paper  on  hospitals  which  he  was  to  send  to  Paris. 
Adieu ;  a  thousand  tender  respects  and  anticipations. 
Do  you  know  that  to  persevere  I  have  had  need  to  re- 
call the  noble  simplicity  of  your  character,  and  what  we 
said  to  each  other  last  year  at  this  very  season  which 
always  brings  us  together." 

The  presence  of  M.  de  Montmorency  raised  the 
drooping  spirits  of  the  poor  exile.  He  strenuously  in- 
sisted, and  Camille  Jordan  seconded  him,  that  she 
should  carry  out  the  project  so  often  made,  but  always 
postponed,  of  a  journey  in  Italy.  He  was  confident 
5  a 


98  MADAME    R^CAMIER 

that  she  would  find  then,  as,  in  fact,  she  did  find,  an 
efiectuid  means  of  diverting  her  mind  in  the  arts,  food 
for  her  i:»iety  in  a  sojouin  at  Rome,  and  a  notable  im- 
provement in  her  health,  which  her  repeated  trials  had 
impaired.  At  the  beginning  of  Lent,  in  the  year  1813, 
Mme.  Recamier  started  for  Turin  with  her  little  com- 
panion. M.  de  Montmorency  accompanied  the  travel- 
lers as  far  as  Chambery. 

Here  occurs  a  somewhat  unaccountable  gap  in  the 
correspondence  of  M,  de  Montmorency,  as  also  in  that 
of  Camille  Jordan.  I  have  in  my  possession  none  of 
the  letters  which  they  must  have  written  to  one  who 
was  very  dear  to  them,  and  whose  steps  they  anxiously 
followed  from  afar  during  this  Italian  journey. 

I  have  made  many  and  fruitless  efibrts  to  recover 
the  letters  which,  during  the  space  of  thirty  years, 
Mme.  Recamier  addressed  to  the  man  whom  she  al- 
ways regarded  as  a  brother  and  reverenced  as  her  good 
angel.  The  Duchess  Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  while 
she  still  lived,  kindly  aided  me  in  my  researches ; 
but  it  was  impossible  to  find  any  traces  of  this  cori'e- 
spondence,  which  must  have  been  voluminous,  and 
which  I  cannot  believe  that  M.  de  Montmorency  de- 
stroyed. 

I  am,  however,  able  to  give  here,  in  the  order  of 
their  dates,  two  of  Mme.  Recamier's  letters  to  Camille 
Jordan  ;  letters  already  published  by  M.  Sainte-Beuve, 
who,  like  myself,  owed  them  to  the  kindness  of  M. 
Arthur  de  Gravillon,  grandson  of  the  famous  ora- 
tor:  — 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.       99 

MME.    RilCAMIER   TO    CAMILLE  JORDAN. 

"  Tdrin,  March  26,  1813. 

"It  is  impossible,  dear  Caraille,  to  write  a  more 
charming  letter  than  that  I  have  just  received  from 
you ;  it  has  stirred  the  very  depths  of  my  heart.  You 
can  have  no  idea  of  the  sadness  which  seized  me  on 
arriving  at  the  summit  of  Mont-Cenis.  I  seemed  to 
be  putting  an  eternal  barrier  between  me  and  all  I 
loved ;  and  I  was  so  miserable  on  arriving  at  Turin 
that  I  thought  I  was  going  to  be  ill.  For  the  last  two 
days  I  have  begun  to  revive,  take  up  my  plans  again, 
look  forward  to  the  future,  and  emerge  from  that 
round  of  sad  thoughts  which  I  have  fully  determined 
to  banish  as  far  as  possible.  I  begin  to  observe  things 
around  me,  and  to  see  a  few  people.  The  influence  of 
Italy  begins  to  make  itself  apparent  here,  not  by  the 
climate,  but  the  customs.  The  women  have  cicisbei 
for  society,  and  abbes  for  intendants.  The  Prince 
Borghese,  who  is  never  called  any  thing  here  but  the 
Prince,  has,  I  have  been  told,  the  most  solemn  little 
court  in  Europe.  The  anecdotes,  the  toilets,  and  the 
love  afikirs  of  this  little  court  seem  to  me  to  occupy  all 
minds,  and  form  the  staple  of  all  conversation.  Our 
friend,  Count  Alfieri,  has  a  prodigious  success  as  master 
of  ceremonies.  The  ancient  nobility  of  Piedmont,  and 
the  French  subjects  holding  places  under  government, 
are  constantly  meeting  at  the  court,  and  do  not  love 
each  other  any  the  more  on  that  account.  The  vanities 
of  rank  and  power  recall  the  great  world  of  Paris,  but 


100  MADAME    RiSCAMIER 

are  flir  more  ridiculous  because  they  operate  in  a 
smaller  circle,  and  have  no  political  interests  attached 
to  them.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  any  country  where 
more  regard  is  paid  to  appearances;  the  houses  are 
palaces,  where  the  old  luxury  of  having  a  great  number 
of  domestics  is  kept  up ;  but  if  one  arrives  unexpect- 
edly, he  is  very  much  surprised,  after  having  passed 
through  antechambers,  salons,  galleries,  to  find  the 
mistress  of  the  mansion  in  an  out-of-the-way  little 
room,  lighted  by  a  single  candle.  In  short,  it  seems  to 
be  the  custom  here  to  indulge  in  superfluities  at  the 
expense  of  the  necessaries  of  life.  The  Prince  leads 
the  most  retired  existence,  except  at  reception  hours. 
He  passes  all  his  time  shut  up  in  his  palace  alone.  This 
seclusion  has  lasted  two  years.  It  has  been  noticed 
that  during  this  time  the  blinds  of  the  rooms  at  the 
back  of  his  apartment  have  remained  constantly  closed. 
One  valet-de-chamhre  only  is  allowed  to  enter  this 
last  room,  which  is  garnished  daily  with  fresh  flowers 
and"  .  .  . 

The  rest  of  the  letter  is  wanting. 


MMB.  RECAMIER  TO  CAMILLE  JORDAN. 

"  Rome,  April  21,  1813. 

"You  are  right:  I  am  a  little  difiicult  to  live  with, 
but  I  do  not  bear  malice;  I  speak  out  when  1  am 
ofiended,  and  then  I  think  no  more  about  it.  I  have 
been  in  Rome  twelve  days.     I  have  passed  five  or  six  of 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     101 

them  ill  in  bed  :  I  am  better  now,  and  shall  begin  to  go 
about  a  little.  I  have  already  seen  some  very  beautiful 
things,  and  regret  that  I  have  not  the  descriptive  talent 
of  the  Bai'on  de  Vogt,  so  that  I  might  talk  to  you 
about  them.  He  has  left  behind  him  here  pleasant 
memories ;  and  your  friend  Degerando,^  who  was  in  a 
far  more  difficult  position,  has  also  left  only  flattering 
impressions.  If  he  were  unable  to  satisfy  everybody, 
at  least  he  displeased  no  one;  and  all  render  justice 
to  his  character  and  intentions.  You  are  very  good 
to  think  of  asking  him  for  letters  for  me ;  they  would 
be  useless.  Upon  arriving,  I  received  invitations  from 
all  the  authorities,  —  the  governor,  prefect,  and  ad- 
ministrator of  police.  I  did  not  accept  them,  because 
I  was  still  unwell,  but  I  am  on  visiting  tei-ms  with 
everybody.  Werner,  whom  I  believe  you  know  (author 
of  'Attila'  and  of  'Luther,'  two  tragedies  which  have 
made  much  noise  in  Germany),  is  now  in  Rome.  He 
has  turned  Catholic,  and  appears  to  me  to  be  in  the 
highest  state  of  religious  excitement.  I  have  also  seen 
M.  de  Chabot,  Matthieu's  friend,  an  amiable  and  good 
young  man,  who  also  spends  all  his  time  in  the  churches. 
These  are  the  happy  ones  of  the  age  !  M.  Millin,  the 
antiquarian,  has  just  arrived:  he  has  talked  to  me  of 
M.  Artaud,  M.  Richard,  M.  Revoil;  but  the  only 
charm  I  have  found  in  his  conversation  are  his  rem- 
iniscences of  my  native  Lyons ;  though  he  is  an  intel- 


1  He  was  commissioner  for  the  French  government  at  the  time 
of  the  abduction  of  the  pope. 


102  MADAME  RlSCAMlER 

ligent  man,  fond  of  society  and  familiar  with  its  usages, 
he,  I  know  not  why,  does  not  please  me.  He  has  just 
sent  me  his  last  works;  if  I  think  they  would  interest 
yoii,  I  will  send  them  to  you.  The  director  of  police, 
M,  de  Norvins,  has  talked  with  me  of  you ;  he  knows 
several  of  your  friends  and  mine,  and  speaks  of  you  as 
all  the  Avorld  speaks.  It  is  a  rare  thing  in  these  times 
to  have  passed  through  so  many  storms  without  making 
one  enemy,  and  to  be  followed  in  retirement  by  the 
affection  of  one's  friends  and  the  high  esteem  of  the  rest 
of  the  world.  M.  de  Norvins  is  certainly  a  man  of  in- 
tellect. He  has  let  me  into  the  secret  of  some  writings 
of  his  which  prove  talent;  but  there  is  about  him  a  mixt- 
ure of  the  old  and  the  new  regime  Avhich  is  a  constant 
sui-prise  to  me.  Sometimes  he  reminds  me  of  M.  de 
Narbonne,  and  the  moment  after  of  Regnaud  de  Saint- 
Jean-d'Angely.  Moreover,  he  is  perfectly  attentive 
and  kind  toward  me.  —  General  Miollis  seems  the  best 
man  in  the  world  :  he  is  much  liked.  I  talked  to  him  of 
Corinne  ;  he  did  not  know  what  I  meant.  He  thought 
it  was  a  city  of  Italy  which  he  had  never  heard  of 

"  Why  do  you  oppose  the  departure  of  M.  Ballanche  ? 
This  is  really  something  to  quarrel  about.  Do  you  not 
know  that  M.  Ballanche  is,  next  to  you,  the  person 
above  all  others  I  should  like  to  travel  with  ?  But  I 
confess  it  is  next  to  you.  He  appeals  to  whatever  is 
good  in  my  nature,  you  please  my  bad  side  as  well. 
Take  that  for  an  epigram  if  you  will,  and  pity  yourself 
for  being  amiable  enough  to  please  my  frivolous  tastes, 
while  at  the  same  time  you  take  my  soul  captive  by  all 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     103 

that  is  noble  and  pure  in  your  own.  Julie  will  not  be 
made  jealous  by  this  declaration ;  amiable  and  lovable 
Julie,  I  bear  her  with  you  in  my  heart.  Why  do  you  not 
give  me  news  of  Mme.  de  Luynes  and  Mrae.  de  Chev- 
reuse  ?  I  am  anxious  about  the  latter,  and  I  beg  you  will 
go  and  inquire  about  her  in  my  name.  Be  good  enough 
to  remember  me  to  Monsieur  and  Madame  "... 

This  letter,  like  the  preceding  one,  is  incomplete :  the 
fragment  preserved  ends  here. 


MME.  RECAMIER  TO  HER  SISTER-IN-LAW,  MME.  DBLPHIN,  AT  LYONS. 

"  Rome,  April  3,  1813. 

"  I  thank  you,  my  good  sister,  for  your  kind  letter, 
which  I  received  at  Rome.  I  was  ill  for  several  days 
upon  my  arrival,  but  I  am  better  now,  and  intend  to 
make  some  excursions  in  the  city  and  its  environs. 

"  Your  angelic  goodness  is  again  shown  in  the  pains 
you  took  to  visit  that  poor  English  invalid ;  I  learned 
with  real  pleasure  the  care  Lady  Webb  has  taken  of  her. 
If,  after  the  latter's  departure,  the  Englishwoman  should 
be  in  want,  give  her  from  me  what  you  think  proper,  and 
be  ffood  enou2fh  also  to  continue  to  look  after  our  little 
Marianne.^  If  a  writing-master  could  be  found  who 
was  not  dear,  ought  she  not  to  take  lessons  for  a  few 

1  Marianne  was  a  little  English  girl  who  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  a  troop  of  mountehanks.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
the  ruptm-e  of  the  treaty  of  Amiens  caused  the  detention  in  France 
of  English  people  of  every  condition.     Mme.  Recamier  saw  this 


101  MADAME  RECAMIER 

months,  making  her,  at  the  same  time,  keep  up  her 
English?  But  you  know  better  than  I  how  to  do 
good,  and  I  put  this  poor  child  under  your  protection. 

"  I  am  distressed  at  what  you  tell  me  of  the  state  of 
Mme.  de  Chevreuse.  How  was  she  pleased  with  M. 
Suquet?  I  am  surprised  and  grieved  at  receiving  no 
letters  from  Mme.  de  Luynes  since  the  one  she  was 
kind  enough  to  write  to  me  at  Turin.  She  has  been 
so  good  and  kind  that  I  truly  hope  she  has  not  yet  for- 
gotten me.  Be  kind  enough  to  see  her  before  you 
write  again,  and  give  me  news  of  her  and  Mme.  de 
Chevreuse.  I  send  a  letter  from  Amelie  to  Mme.  della 
Torre.  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  her  disposition 
and  her  sentiments,  but  less  so  with  her  application; 
she  is  heedless,  and  on  that  account  Mme.  della  Torre 
was  just  the  teacher  she  needed.  I  shall  certainly  put 
her  under  her  care  again  when  I  return  to  Lyons. 

"  I  thank  you  for  having  sent  me  the  trunk.  It  was 
an  inconceivable  piece  of  thoughtlessness  on  my  part 
not  to  remember  that  it  was  to  be  sent  to  the  diligence. 
It  was  another  consequence  of  the  wretched  state  of 
mind  I  was  in  before  ray  departure ;  it  seems  to  me  I 
am  a  great  deal  better  now,  but  I  am  in  constant  fear 
of  again  becoming  a  prey  to  melancholy.  Please  post- 
pone the  payment  of  the  dressmaker's  bill  until  my 

child  in  the  Place  Bellecour,  and  was  interested  by  her  unhappy 
air  and  pretty  face.  She  was  rescued  from  the  clutches  of  the 
vagabonds  who  were  making  use  of  her  for  their  own  purposes. 
Mme.  R^camier  placed  her  at  school  and  afterward  at  a  trade. 
She  became  a  nun,  and  died  young. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     105 

return,  for  it  seems  to  me  exorbitant  for  what  she  did 
for  me.  Adieu,  dear  and  kind  sister,  and  number  me 
among  those  who  most  tenderly  love  you.  Remember 
me  to  M.  Delphin,  Mme.  Amelie,  M.  and  Mme.  Pay  en. 
Say  also  to  Mme.  Legendre  that  I  much  regret  not 
having  been  able  to  say  good-by  to  her  as  I  intended 
to  do.  She  was  then  a  little  unwell ;  tell  me  how  she 
is.  Is  her  son  with  her?  She  is  so  good  and  kind  that 
one  likes  to  know  she  is  happy. 

"Adieu,  my  good,  excellent  sistei*.  I  embrace  you 
and  love  you  with  all  my  heart.  Remember  me  to  all 
those  who  take  an  interest  in  me.  I  have  selected  straw 
bonnets  for  your  daughters,  and  will  bring  them  on  my 
return.  I  should  like  very  much  to  find  something 
which  you  would  like,  but  I  have  not  yet  seen  any 
thing  to  please  me. 

"  Please  address  my  letters  henceforward  to  M. 
Torlonia,  Rome." 

The  fall  of  the  Empire  reopened  the  gates  of  France 
to  Mme.  Recamier,  and  she  seized  the  first  opportunity 
to  return  to  Paris  to  the  bosom  of  her  family.  She 
stopped,  however,  two  days  at  Lyons  to  see  her  sister- 
in-law  and  Camille  Jordan. 

The  return  of  Mme.  Recamier  to  Pai-isian  society  was 
a  veritable  triumph,  an  era  of  renewed  and  increased 
success.  To  the  fame  of  a  beauty  which  years  had  not 
robbed  of  any  of  its  charm,  was  now  added  another 
prestige,  —  the  firmness  she  had  shown  during  her  three 
years  of  exile.     But  under  such  circumstances  there 


106  MADAME  RECAMIER 

was  little  time  to  devote  to  correspondents '.  thus  we 
see  Camille  Jordan  comjDlaining  of  a  silence  which 
made  him  fear  he  was  forgotten,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  accuses  himself  of  indolence.  He  writes  from  Lyons 
the  16th  of  August,  1814 :  — 

"Dear  Jin.iETTE, — What  a  disgrace  to  our  friend- 
ship, what  mutual  delinquency!  What,  after  having 
met  again  with  so  much  pleasure,  though  for  so  short  a 
time,  no  longer  one  word !  I  am  reduced  to  hearing  of 
you  through  your  relations,  and  you  to  my  compliments 
by  Matthieu !  You  are  in  reality  much  more  culpable 
than  I;  for  what  have  I  to  write  about  except  the 
continued  happiness  of  a  united  household,  and  my 
affection  for  you,  so  true  and  faithful,  though  I  fear  it 
seems  more  insipid  than  ever  to  yuu  in  comparison  with 
Parisian  adorations.  But  you,  what  could  you  not  tell 
me  of  your  triumphant  return  ;  of  your  reunion  with  so 
many  friends  ;  of  the  reorganization  of  the  most  delight- 
ful society ;  of  the  relations  so  delicate  with  the  daugh- 
ter and  the  mother ;  of  the  impression  this  new  regime 
makes  upon  you  ;  of  your  estimate  of  public  opinion,  for 
you  know  the  value  I  attach  to  it,  and  how  I  delight  to 
hear  you,  with  your  pure  and  discriminating  mind,  talk 
on  all  subjects,  even  the  most  serious.  So  do  try  to 
find  a  favorable  moment  and  write  me  a  long  letter,  or 
a  few  lines  at  least,  upon  the  most  urgent  points,  —  your 
health,  the  state  of  your  heart,  and  if  you  are  happy. 

"Name  to  me  the  people  whom  you  see  most  fre- 
quently.    Doubtless  no  one  more  indemnifies  herself  for 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     107 

your  long  absence  than  Mme.  cle  Catellan;  and  Mat- 
thieu,  anotlier  one  who  knows  how  to  love,  does  he,  in 
his  threefold  busy  life,  succeed  in  finding  the  time  which 
he  without  doubt  wishes  to  devote  to  you?  and  the 
ambassador^  and  prince,  have  they  not  spoiled  Adrien 
the  friend?  How  do  you  stand  with  the  household 
Degerando  as  regards  both  friendship  and  business  ? 
You  may  imagine  how  my  heart  rejoiced  to  see  their 
fate  at  last  honorably  and  happily  fixed.  You  have 
lost  in  Mme.  de  Stael  one  of  your  greatest  sources  of 
interest  and  excitement,  but  now  you  will  have  the 
pleasant  society  of  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire.  You 
will  meet  again  with  mutual  pleasure.  Not  knowing 
her  address,  permit  me  to  enclose  and  give  in  your  care 
this  note  for  her.  My  wife  knows  that  I  am  writing, 
and  desires  to  be  affectionately  remembered  to  you. 
Our  three  children,  Caroline  especially,  continue  to  do 
well,  and  are  the  delight  of  our  hearts.  We  are  living  in 
town,  as  it  has  rarely  offered  more  objects  of  interest. 
I  was  wrong  in  supposing  a  moment  ago  that  there 
was  nothing  to  tell  you.  If  I  were  addicted  to  the 
descri]3tive  style,  if  I  did  not  go  to  sleep  in  the  middle 
of  the  finest  narrations,  I  might  describe  to  you  the 
visit  of  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme,  the  magnificent /eies 
we  gave  her  for  three  days,  the  sincere  and  universal 
enthusiasm,  which  was  the  most  beautiful  part  of  all, 
and   the   profound   gratification  that   she   manifested. 


1  Adrien  de  Montmorency,  Prince  de  Laval,  had  been  made 
ambassador  to  Madrid. 


108  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

Paris  itself  did  not  ofier  her  any  thing  like  it.  Thus 
you  see  that  Lyons,  which  has  been  so  much  calum- 
niated, has  quite  retrieved  her  reputation.  But  I  refer 
you  for  all  these  particulars  to  the  journal  of  our 
descriptive  friend  Ballanche,  which  I  have  told  him 
to  send  to  you.  I  found  my  usiud  phlegm  desert  me 
in  the  midst  of  these  festivities ;  I  could  not  see  with- 
out profound  emotion  this  most  blameless  triumph  of 
the  Orphan  of  the  Temple.  She  had  the  goodness  to 
ask  after  me,  to  permit  me  to  be  presented  to  her,  to 
address  to  me  a  few  kind  words.  We  also  presented 
Ballanche  to  her,  that  he  might  offer  to  the  French 
Antigone  the  dedication  of  the  Greek  Antigone.  It 
was  the  Revoils  and  the  Artauds  who  had  the  most  to 
do  with  the  direction  of  the  fetes,  and  who  brought  to 
the  task  no  less  taste  than  zeal.  We  thought  of  you  in 
this  excitement,  and  regretted  you  much.  The  coming 
of  the  Count  d'Artois  is  announced ;  but  as  for  me,  1  • 
have  had  enough ;  I  shall  escape  to  the  groves  of  Ecully, 
then  to  Bresse ;  and  probably  from  Lyons  I  shall  go  to 
see  you.  What  new  charm  for  me  your  presence  will 
give  to  Paris!  But  shall  I  find  you  the  same  as  in 
exile?  Will  you  not  make  me  regret,  as  some  one  has 
said,  the  good  time  lohen  we  loere  imhappy,  ^  you  will  be 

•  A  saying  of  Sophie  Arnould,  put  into  verse  by  Rulhi^ie  :  — 

"  Un  jour,  une  actrice  fanoeuse 
Me  contait  les  fureurs  do  son  premier  amant; 
Moitie  revant,  moitie  rieuse, 
Eile  ajouta  ce  mot  cliarmant: 
'Oh  !  c'dtait  le  bon  temps,  j'^tais  bien  mallieureuse.' " 

Tr. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     109 

so  surrounded  and  preoccupied  ?  As  for  rao,  I  sliall 
bring  back  to  you,  you  may  be  very  sure,  the  same 
faithful  friendship,  the  same  desire  to  see  you  happy 
and  perfect,  of  which  I  have  so  often  assured  you. 
Adieu,  sweet  and  charming  friend ;  do  not  fail  to  re- 
member me  to  those  of  your  circle  for  whom  you  know 
me  to  have  either  affection  or  liking.  Particular  regards 
to  Mme.  de  Catellan.  "Camille." 


"  Lyons,  July  31,  1815. 

"Dear  Juliette,  —  What  mortal  silence  between 
us !  If  we  only  wrote  to  each  other  at  least  every  time 
the  Emj)ire  was  overturned,  there  might  be  some  hope 
of  our  correspondence.  M.  Dolphin  has  indeed  prom- 
ised that  he  would  assure  you  of  my  lasting  and  tender 
regard  ;  but,  however,  I  must  for  once  speak  for  myself. 
These  late  troubles  have  made  me  think  of  you  often. 
I  judged  of  your  anxieties  by  our  own.  I  am  persuaded 
that  we  have  many  opinions  as  well  as  feelings  in 
common  ;  for,  without  boasting  overmuch  of  ourselves, 
we  have  generally  been  found  together  on  the  side  of 
truth  and  justice.  I  came  near  flying  to  you  from  the 
tumults  that  raged  in  Lyons,  with  all  my  brood,  for 
whom  I  was  painfully  anxious,  but  the  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  so  great  a  move  deterred  me,  and,  by  the 
help  of  God,  all  has  turned  out  much  better  than  we 
dared  to  hope.  Perhaps  I  shall  soon  come  alone,  if 
my  health,  which  is  somewhat  feeble,  permit. 

"  How  glad  I  shall  be  to  see  you  again,  and  how  much 


110  MADAME  R:^CAMIER 

I  shall  have  to  tell  you!  Do  not  fail,  niean while,  to 
reply ;  and  after  telling  me  of  yourself,  your  pleasures 
and  your  pains,  one  word,  if  you  please,  of  public  opin- 
ion in  Paris,  which  you  ought  to  know  better  than  any 
one  else,  you  who  see  the  best  people  of  all  parties. 
Is  there  any  hope  of  saving  our  poor  country  ?  any 
chance  of  reconciling  so  many  divided  hearts  and 
minds?  One  Avord  also  about  your  several  friends. 
Some  of  them  must  be  lifted  up  and  others  cast  down; 
and,  according  to  your  custom,  it  is  not  the  latter  who 
interest  you  the  least.  What  do  you  think  will  be  the 
fate  of  Degerando  ?  I  am  much  concerned  about  him. 
Have  you  seen  lately  our  dear  Matthieu ;  and  the  severe 
warning  against  all  exaggeration,  whether  j^ious  or  pro- 
fane, has  he  profited  by  it?  What  are  your  relations 
with  the  stormy  family  on  the  lake  shore  ?  One  of 
theu'  friends,  who  is  an  intimate  acquaintance  of  yours, 
has,  with  all  his  senses  about  liim,  been  dreaming  a 
strange  dream  ;^  his  awakening  from  it  must  have 
been  bitter.  Do  you  see  Mme.  de  Kriidnei-,  that 
amiable  queen  of  the  realm  of  the  vague  ?  My  wife 
has  suffered  greatly  from  so  much  excitement ;  she  is 
beginning  to  recover,  and  charges  me  with  affectionate 
remembrances  for  you.  As  to  my  children,  thanks 
to  the  happy  thoughtlessness  of  their  age,  they  have 
continued  well.  Do  not  forget,  I  beg  of  you,  to  re- 
member me  to  your  husband,  whose  passing  troubles, 
wherein  you  showed  as  usual  such  perfect  delicacy,  I 

1  Allusion  to  the  conduct  of  Benjamin  Constant  during  the 
Hundred  Days. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     Ill 

nave  heard  of  and  deplored.  Particular  respects  to 
Mme.  de  Catellan ;  but,  above  all,  affectionate  regards 
to  the  good  Ballanche,  who,  intoxicated  as  he  is  by 
your  charming  society,  is  not,  I  hope,  ungrateful  enough 
to  forget  him  who  was  the  firet  cause  of  this  crowning 
felicity  of  his  life. 

"Adieu,  dear  Juliette;  I  love  and  shall  love  you 
always.  "  Camille." 

These  letters  are  the  last  from  Camille  Jordan  found 
among  Mme.  Recaraier's  papers,  and  are,  very  prob- 
ably, also  the  last  which  he  addressed  to  her.  Chosen 
deputy  by  the  department  de  I'Ain,  in  1815,  he  occu- 
pied his  seat  in  the  Chamber  with  great  regularity  ;  and 
from  that  time  until  his  death  lived  almost  constantly  in 
Paris.  These  two  letters,  written  with  an  interval  of 
a  year  between  them,  present  points  of  very  peculiar 
interest,  for  they  foreshadow,  and  indeed  already  ex- 
press, the  sti-uggle  which  was  beginning  in  the  mind  of 
the  great  orator.  In  1814,  the  joy  of  the  lover  of 
freedom  in  seeing  France  delivered  from  a  despotic 
government  heightened  the  joy  of  the  royalist  in  wit- 
nessing the  return  of  the  Bourbons.  This  double  feel- 
ing inspires  the  account  he  gives  of  the  reception  of 
Madame,  the  Duchess  d'Angouleme.  In  1815,  the 
aspect  of  things  had  changed.  A  Royalist,  but,  above 
all,  an  ardent  friend  of  liberty,  the  violent  proceedings 
of  the  Chamhre  introuvahle  ^  greatly  shook  the  con- 

1  Chavihre  introuvahle,  —  literally,  not  to  be  found,  hence  incom- 
parable, —  a  name  given  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  of  the  year 


112  MADAME  RSCAMIER 

fidence  of  the  patriot  in  the  liberalism  of  the  restored 
monarchy.  Nevertheless,  Camille  Jordan,  during  the 
three  sessions  of  1816,  1817,  and  1818,  unhesitatingly 
supported  the  ministry.  In  1819,  we  find  him  in  the 
ranks  of  an  active  opposition.  It  was  not  that  he  had 
changed  his  opinions ;  but  he  thought  he  saw  liberty 
in  peril,  and,  with  the  energy  of  a  grand  political  faith, 
he  fought  against  doctrines  which  in  his  eyes  were  in- 
compatible with  the  needs  of  modern  society.  Never 
was  the  eloquence  of  Camille  Jordan  more  brilliant, 
never  were  his  words  more  thrilling,  than  during  this 
last  period  of  his  political  career.  Sometimes,  it  must 
be  confessed,  his  glowing  utterances  were  tinged  with 
a  deep  bitterness,  such  as  follows  the  disappointment 
of  cherished  hopes. 

What  added  in  no  small  deo-ree  to  the  effect  of  his 
speeches  was  the  fact  that  Camille  Jordan  was  dying. 
When  he  left  his  seat,  where  he  was  obliged  to  lie  at 
full  length,  and  mounted  to  the  tribune,  it  seemed  as 
though  the  little  life  he  had  left  would  exhale  in  the 
midst  of  his  impassioned  oratory. 

The  reader  will  doubtless  have  noticed  in  the  letters 
of  the  eloquent  orator  to  Mme.  Recamier  some  expres- 
sions of  anxiety  with  regard  to  the  opinions  of  Matthieu 

1815,  distinguished  fbr  its  exaggerated  royalism.  "  Certainly  four 
months  beforehand  no  one  would  have  believed  that  the  electoral 
colleges  of  the  Empire  could  give  birth  to  such  a  Chamber ;  and 
Louis  XVIII.,  who,  ten  months  later,  was  to  pronounce  its  dissolu- 
tion, was  right  in  calling  it,  in  the  first  effusion  of  his  joy,  '  Chambre 
introuvable.'"  (Duvergier  de  Ilauranne,  "History  of  Parlia- 
mentary Government  in  France.")  —  Tk. 


AND  THE  FRIENDS  OF  HER  YOUTH.     113 

de  Montmorency  which  seemed  to  him  too  reactionary. 
The  divergence  of  their  political  views  more  than  once 
led  to  discussions  between  these  two  men  so  long 
united  in  the  bonds  of  closest  intimacy,  — discussions  all 
the  more  animated  because  both  had  strong  convic- 
tions.  But  if  the  intolerance  of  party-spirit  embarrassed 
and  disturbed  their  intercourse,  it  could  not  weaken  in 
these  two  noble  hearts  the  deep  esteem  they  felt  for 
each  other;  whilst  Mme.  Recamier,  moreover,  con- 
tinued to  be  between  them  a  bond  of  concord  and 
affection. 

Camille  Jordan  died  the  19th  of  May,  1821. 


BUT)   OF  PAST  I. 


PART    II. 

LETTEKS     OF     MADAME     RECAMIER     TO 
HER    NIECE. 


TT  is  with  inexpressible  emotion  that  I  make  public 
-■-  these  letters,  proofs  of  the  strong  affection  with 
which  I  was  honored  by  her  who  held  to  me  the  place 
of  mother.  I  hesitated  long;  but  I  was  told  that  I 
bad  no  right  to  keep  concealed  the  treasures  of  lov- 
ing-kindness hidden  in  that  heart,  —  a  heart  so  well 
fitted  for  all  the  sensibilities,  all  the  ardor,  all  the  self- 
denial  of  maternal  love,  but  to  which  fate  had  denied 
the  crowning  joys  of  home. 

A  few  words  of  explanation  will  doubtless  not  be 
out  of  place  here.  I  am  aware  how  difficult  it  is  to 
escape  ridicule  in  speaking  of  one's  self;  I  shall  endeavor, 
therefore,  in  regard  to  matters  purely  personal  to  me,  to 
say  only  so  much  as  may  be  necessary  to  portray  what 
is,  perhaps,  the  innermost  side  of  the  life  and  affections 
of  Mme.  Recamier.  To  exhibit  the  brilliant  woman 
who  so  long  wielded  the  sceptre  of  fashion  and  received 
the  homage  of  all  Europe,  —  performing  the  duties  of 
governess   and  mother,   duties   which  she  had  volun- 


116       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RECAMIER 

tarily  assumed,  and  which  she  fulfilled  with  so  much 
perseverance,  good  sense,  indulgence,  and  firmness ;  — 
will  not  this,  indeed,  be  a  revelation  to  the  majority  of 
readers  ? 

I  was  nearly  six  years  old  when  I  lost  my  mother, 
and  my  unole,  M.  Jacques  Recamier,  my  grandmother's 
brother,  renewed  the  offer  he  had  formerly  made  to 
take  charge  of  his  little  orphan  niece.  My  father  no 
longer  refused  this  affectionate  proposal,  and  I  was  sent 
to  Paris,  where  I  arrived  in  the  course  of  July,  1811, 
only  a  few  weeks  before  that  departure  of  Mme.  Re- 
camier for  Coppet,  which  was  the  cause,  or  pretext, 
rather,  of  her  exile. 

My  beautiful  Paris  aunt  was  not  wholly  a  stranger 
to  me.  During  a  short  visit  which  she  made  at  Bugey 
in  1810  to  her  husband's  family,  I,  young  as  I  was,  had 
already  been  dazzled  and  delighted  by  the  brilliancy, 
grace,  and  rare  elegance  of  the  wonderful  stranger. 
She,  herself,  won  by  my  baby  ways,  proposed  to  take 
me  away  with  her.  I  would  have  willingly  gone  even 
then  with  the  enchantress,  but  she  returned  to  Aix, 
where  she  was  then  taking  the  waters,  and  her  lovely 
face  faded  a  little  fi'om  my  memory.  Upon  her  return 
to  Paris,  Mme.  Recamier  sent  a  message  to  my  parents, 
asking  for  the  little  one.  My  mother,  who  was  still 
living,  could  not  resolve  to  part  with  me,  and  it  was 
not  until  after  her  death,  as  I  have  said,  that  I  was 
sent  to  Paris.  Upon  arriving  there,  the  lady  who  had 
charge  of  me  took  me  to  the  street  Basse-du-Rempart, 
No.  48,  where  my  uncle  had  his  counting-room.     It 


TO  HER  NIECE.  117 

must  have  been  about  four  o'clock,  for  he  had  ah-eady 
despatched  his  letters  for  the  mail.  After  a  few 
moments  my  uncle  took  me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  to 
the  house  No.  32,  in  the  same  street,  where  he  lived 
with  his  wife  after  the  hotel  in  the  Rue  du  Mont-Blanc 
was  sold  to  M.  de  Mosselmann. 

A  child's  memory  is  capricious ;  some  things  leave 
upon  it  no  trace,  while  others  —  the  aspect  of  certain 
localities,  the  image  of  certain  persons — make  an  in- 
delible impression.  I  vividly  remember  my  introduc- 
tion to  my  aunt :  she  was  in  white,  with  lier  hair  dressed 
in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  without  any  additional  orna- 
ment,-' and  was  reclining  on  a  sofa  placed  opposite 
the  fireplace,  directly  under  her  portrait  by  Gerard. 
General  Junot  stood  talking  with  her.  My  uncle  opened 
the  door,  and,  pushing  me  forward,  said,  "  Here  is  the 
little  girl." 

I  recognized  immediately  the  beautiful  being  who 
had  formerly  fascinated  me.  I  felt  neither  fear  nor  shy- 
ness ;  her  kindness  put  me  directly  at  case ;  our  ac- 
quaintance was  at  once  renewed,  and  an  intimacy 
established  between  us.  I  sang  a  little  song,  half 
patois,  half  French,  with  an  emphasis  which  greatly 
amused  her.  A  bed  was  made  up  for  me  in  a  small 
room  adjoining  hers;  and  in  so  bewildering  a  situation, 
with  so  many  strange  faces  constantly  passing  before 
me,  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  ardently  I  attached 
myself  to  the  kind  and  sympathetic  protectress  who 

^  Coiffee  en  cheveux. 


118       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RECAMIER 

watched  tenderly  over  the  poor  homesick  child.  —  Some 
days  after  my  arrival  my  aunt  asked  me  if  I  knew  bow 
to  read.  I  replied  yes;  as  I  had,  in  fact,  been  for  more 
than  a  year  at  a  school  in  Belley,  where  an  old  nun 
taught  the  little  girls  in  the  town  their  letters,  and  I 
was  supposed  to  have  learned  to  read.  My  aunt  put  a 
book  in  my  hand  and  said,  "  Well,  then,  read  me  this." 
I  took  the  book,  and  without  hesitating  began  to  recite 
a  dedicatory  epistle  to  the  dauphin,  the  only  printed 
thing  I  had  ever  seen,  and  which  I  had  got  by  heart 
from  having  heard  it  often  repeated  by  my  little  com- 
panions. My  aunt  laughed  heartily  at  my  dedicatory 
epistle,  and  it  was  agreed  that  I  must  be  taught  to 
read. 

Meanwhile,  busy  preparations  were  making  for  the 
departure  of  Mme.  Recamier,  which  I  watched  without 
either  understanding  their  significance  or  imagining 
that  I  was  not  to  be  of  the  party.  I  came  very  near 
not  being  of  it,  however,  for  it  was  only  at  the  last  mo- 
ment that  my  uncle  said,  "  Why  do  you  not  take  little 
Amelie?"  and  so  I  was  taken.  My  poor  dear  aunt, 
when  she  mournfully  recalled  years  afterward  the  inci- 
dents of  a  life  so  envied  by  the  world,  but  so  sad  and 
empty  in  reality,  liked  to  attribute  to  Providence  the 
chance  arrival  of  the  little  orphan  to  supply  her  heart 
with  a  new  interest  just  at  the  moment  when  her  exile 
was  to  expose  her  to  solitude  and  neglect,  which  were 
to  her  very  severe  trials. 

Before  reaching  Geneva,  while  we  were  stopping  at 
the  last    post-house   to   change   horses,   Augustus  de 


TO  HER  NIECE.  119 

Stael,  who  bad  ridden  to  meet  Mme.  Recamier,  opened 
so  suddenly  the  carriage  door  upon  which  I  was  lean- 
ing, that  I  fell  out  between  the  wheels,  but  without 
doing  myself  any  injury.  My  aunt  left  the  carriage  and 
went  up  into  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  inn,  where  she 
was  informed  by  M.  de  Statl  of  Matthieu  de  Montmo- 
rency's sentence  of  exile,  which  had  just  been  made 
known  to  him  at  Coppet.  Augustus  was  the  bearer  of 
a  message  from  his  despairing  mother,  beseeching  Mme. 
Recamier  not  to  expose  herself  to  the  same  danger  in 
the  same  place.  But  she  was  unwilling  to  retrace  her 
steps  without  seeing  her  friend,  and  we  pursued  our 
journey.  We  arrived  at  Coppet  after  dark.  I  entered 
the  salon  behind  my  aunt.  A  woman  in  tears,  whose 
gestures  and  aetion  appeared  to  me  very  vehement, 
threw  herself  into  her  arms ;  then  the  maid  carried  me 
off  and  put  me  to  bed.  The  next  day  at  breakfast  I 
was  seated  between  Mile.  Albertine  de  Stael  and  Mile. 
Randall ;  the  conversation  was  very  animated,  and  in- 
definitely prolonged.  Sitting  so  long  among  strange 
people  presently  became  insupportable  to  me :  motion- 
less on  my  chair,  which  I  did  not  dare  to  leave,  I  sought 
a  means  of  amusing  myself,  and  tying  two  knots  in 
opposite  corners  of  my  napkin  to  represent  two  dolls, 
I  made  them  repeat,  in  a  low  voice  at  first  and  after- 
ward aloud,  a  dialogue,  not  in  very  good  taste,  between 
sister  Jacqueline  and  her  confessor.  I  was  so  deeply 
engaged  with  my  play  that  I  did  not  notice  the  signs 
my  aunt  made  me  to  be  silent  and  go  away.  Mme.  de 
Stael  interposed  with  gracious  and  indulgent  kindness : 


120       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

*'  Do  not  scold  the  little  one,"  she  said ;  "  she  will  cer- 
tainly make  an  excellent  actress." 

Mine.  R6camier's  order  of  exile  was  not  long  in  fol- 
lowing that  of  M.  de  Montmorency.  Mme.  de  Staiil  had 
foreseen  it  too  well  when  she  had  besought  her  not  to 
come  again  to  Coppet.  A  letter  from  M.  Recamier 
brought  the  sad  news.  Mme.  de  Stael's  despair  at  this 
persecution,  which  seemed  to  be  contagious,  cannot  be 
described.  She  has  portrayed  it  herself  in  moving  terms 
in  her  "Dix  Annees  d'Exil."  Nevertheless,  she  still 
tried  to  persuade  herself  that  if  her  noble  and  lovely 
friend  would  return  immediately  to  Paris,  it  might  not 
be  impossible  to  get  the  cruel  order  revoked.  By  her 
grief  and  her  tears  she  finally  succeeded  in  inducing 
Mme.  Recamier  to  take  this  course,  and  at  the  end  of 
three  days  we  left  Coppet  for  Paris. 

It  was  not  very  easy  for  me  at  my  age  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  the  fits  of  fainting  and  crying,  and 
the  general  excitement  going  on  around  me ;  but  I  had 
made  out  that  exile  was  a  danger  that  threatened  the 
only  being  whom  I  loved  and  who  cared  for  me.  I  con- 
sidered myself  exiled  also ;  and  while  we  were  at  Cha- 
lons, hearing  in  a  sermon  far  beyond  my  comprehension 
the  words,  "  an  exile  upon  earth,"  I  seized  my  aunt's 
hand  and  whispered,  "Is  he  talking  about  us?"  One 
night,  hearing  a  loud  knocking  at  the  door  of  the  house 
where  we  lived.  Rue  du  Cloitre,  Mme.  Recamier  started 
up  out  of  her  sleep  and  cried,  "  Ah,  mon  Dieu  !  what 
do  they  want  now  ?  "  to  which  I,  who  was  sleeping  in 
the  same  room,  to  her  surprise  replied,  "  What  are  you 


TO  HER  NIECE.  121 

afraid  of,  dear  aunt ;  are  we  not  at  our  forty  leagues  ?  " 
Thus,  young  as  I  was,  the  misfortune  of  my  charming 
protectress  served  to  bring  her  still  nearer  to  me,  her 
inseparable  little  companion. 

In  these  days  of  liberty  and  publicity,  we  can  hardly 
imagine  how  completely  the  master's  displeasure  re- 
duced the  exiles  to  the  condition  of  pariahs.  I  find  a 
singular  proof  of  this  in  a  letter  from  my  uncle  Jacques 
Recamier  to  his  wife,  dated  July  15,  1812.  My  aunt 
had  been  authorized  to  leave  Chalons,  and  for  a  month 
we  had  been  established  at  the  Hotel  de  I'Europe,  at 
Lyons. 

"  I  was  very  confident,"  writes  M.  Recamier,  "  that 
you  would  have  a  most  cordial  reception  fi-om  my 
family  and  friends ;  I  was  only  anxious  to  know  if  you 
had  responded  to  it  properly ;  that  is  to  say,  in  a  way 
to  please  the  tastes  of  one  and  all,  which,  very  possibly, 
may  not  be  in  harmony  with  yours.  I  see  that  in  this 
respect  all  has  passed  off  very  well :  you  have  got  on 
the  right  side  of  my  sister  Delphin,  and  seem  to  be  on 
very  good  terms  with  her,  which  gives  me  great  pleas- 
ure ;  only  be  on  your  guard  against  any  excess  in  alms- 
giving and  acts  of  generosity,  to  which  she  will  be 
likely  to  incite  you  by  the  pictures  of  poverty  she  will 
daily  set  before  your  eyes,  for  I  already  do  a  great 
deal  myself  here,  and  one  ought  never  in  any  thing  to 
go  beyond  the  bounds  of  reason. 

"  Be  also  careful  with  whom  you  associate,  for,  though 
it  does  not  appear,  you  are  always  under  the  secret 
6 


122       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

surveillance  of  the  police.  Your  change  or  transfer 
from  Chalons  to  Lyons  has  put  you  in  another  division 
of  the  general  police.  I  chance  to  have  a  friend  in  this 
new  division,  whom  I  met  the  otlier  day  on  the  boule- 
vard;  he  told  me  that  two  reports  from  Lyons  con- 
cerning you  had  already  been  received,  —  the  first,  to 
announce  your  arrival,  and  the  second,  to  say  that  you 
were  behaving  very  well,  that  you  saw  few  peoj^le  and 
lived  very  quietly.  This  friend  promises  to  keep  me 
regularly  advised  of  all  that  happens  in  regard  to  you. 
He  added  that  there  would  finally  be  a  general  report 
handed  in,  which  one  day  or  other  would  be  sent  to  the 
Emperor,  who  would  then  definitively  decide." 

Is  not  this  the  way  that  criminals  released  on  pro- 
bation are  treated  ? 

During  the  three  years  of  Mme.  Recamier's  exile,  — 
whether  at  Chalons,  Lyons,  Rome,  or  Naples,  —  she 
never  separated  from  the  child  she  had  adopted  as  her 
daughter.  I  never  had  any  other  sleeping  room  than 
hers.  My  education  went  on  in  the  travelling  carriage 
which  bore  from  place  to  place  the  beautiful  exile,  as 
well  as  in  the  cities  where  we  stayed ;  and  when  we 
returned  to  Paris,  in  1814, 1  spoke  Italian  as  fluently 
as  I  did  my  own  tongue.  My  aunt  delighted  to  teach 
me  music,  which  she  passionately  loved ;  and  I  no 
longer  imagined  that  I  was  reading  when  I  repeated 
by  heart  the  dedicatory  epistle  to  the  dauphin. 

Amid  all  the  excitements  of  the  social  success  which 
welcomed  Mme.  R^camier  back  to  Parisian  society,  her 


TO  HER  NIECE.  123 

habits  with  regard  to  her  whom  she  called  her  child 
suffered  no  change  in  any  respect.  My  little  desk  was 
placed  in  the  recess  of  one  of  the  windows  of  the  gi'eat 
salon,  where,  under  her  eye,  I  took  all  my  lessons. 
How  often  lias  it  happened  that  some  one  of  my  aunt's 
most  intimate  friends,  seeing  me  perplexed  to  find  a 
date,  or  vainly  looking  for  a  word  in  the  dictionary, 
would  come  to  my  aid !  This  recalls  to  me  a  little 
anecdote  illustrative  of  the  literary  tact  of  Mme.  de 
Genlis,  and  in  which  Lemontey  appears  in  an  amiable 
light.  He  used  to  dine  with  us  every  Saturday,  and 
took  the  greatest  interest  in  my  studies.  It  was  in 
1817,  and  Mme.  de  Genlis,  who  was  always  forming 
enthusiastic  attachments,  had  that  year  conceived  a 
sort  of  passion,  certainly  with  good  reason,  for  Mme. 
Recamier.  Wishing  to  make  herself  agreeable,  she 
proposed  to  give  me  weekly  a  subject  for  a  composi- 
tion which  she  was  to  correct.  One  Saturday,  on  com- 
ing as  usual  to  dinner,  M.  Lemontey  found  me  in 
despair,  and  crying  bitterly  over  a  sentence  which  I 
had  begun  and  could  not  finish.  He  inquired  the  cause 
of  my  grief,  took  my  copy-book  and  dictated  to  me  a 
sentence  which  freed  me  from  my  difficulty,  and  set  me 
going  again.  The  next  week,  when  my  composition 
was  returned  corrected,  we  found  in  the  margin  op- 
posite the  sentence  dictated  by  Lemontey  these  words: 
"  This  sentence  is  wanting  in  youthfulness." 

What  might  I  not  add  were  I  to  allow  myself  to 
describe  in  detail  the  watchful  care,  the  far-seeing  love 
which  presided  over  my  education !     When,  motlier  of 


124        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RI^CAMTER 

a  family  myself,  I  had  to  fulfil  toward  my  daughters 
the  duty  of  vigilance  which  the  most  brilliant  woman 
of  her  day  imposed  upon  herself;  I  had  only  to  re- 
member my  own  childhood  to  be  penetrated  with 
admiration  and  gratitude  for  the  solicitude  with  which 
Mme.  Recamier,  in  a  salon  full  of  people,  heard  and 
watched  over  all  that  was  said  to  me. 

She  had  early  given  me  permission  to  pass  the  eveu- 
ing  in  the  salon,  warning  me,  at  the  same  time,  never 
to  permit  any  man,  whether  young  or  old,  to  talk  to 
me  in  a  low  voice,  and,  to  prevent  this,  always  to  reply 
so  as  to  be  heard  by  everybody. 

Straightforward  and  sincere  under  all  circumstances, 
she  held  dissimulation  in  horror.  I  cannot  describe  the 
pains  she  took  to  acquaint  me  with  household  duties,  to 
cultivate  in  me  habits  of  order  and  economy.  Although 
very  methodical  in  the  management  of  her  ])roperty, 
Mme.  Recamier  had  no  taste,  and  declared  she  had  no 
talent,  for  domestic  details.  Her  constant  aim,  as  she 
often  expressed  to  me,  was  this :  "  I  wish,"  she  would 
say,  "  that  you  should  have  all  that  has  been  wanting 
in  me,  and  that  you  may  be  more  happy  than  I  have 
been."  This  affectionate  desire  Mme.  Recamier  ac- 
complished so  far  as  it  was  in  her  power.  She  could 
not  give  me  the  rare  and  charming  qualities,  the  lofty 
virtues  which  Heaven  had  been  pleased  to  lavish  upon 
her,  but  she  gave  me  the  domestic  happiness  which 
was  not  accorded  to  her ;  and  in  uniting  me  to  the  man 
whom  I  loved,  and  by  whom  I  was  ly;loved,  she  realized 
lor  the  child  of  her  adoption  that  supreme  felicity  of 


TO  HER  NIECE.  125 

love  in  mamasre  which  had  been  the  dream  and  the 
regret  of  her  life. 


"  Dieppe,  July  2,  I8I8.1 
"  I  shall  not  return  to  Paris,  my  dear  child,  until  the 
17th  of  this  month.  If,  as  I  hope,  Mrae.  de  Gramont 
is  satisfied  with  you,  I  shall  ask  her  to  allow  you  to 
come  out  the  day  of  my  arrival.  I  am  pleased  with 
your  intention  of  fully  occupying  your  time.  I  find 
your  last  letter  more  reasonable  ;  I  was  grieved  at  the 
idea  you  gave  me  of  yourself  by  your  want  of  resigna- 
tion, but  I  hope  that  you  will  efface  this  impression.  I 
take  two  baths  a  day ;  this  fatigues  me,  and  obliges  me 
to  lie  down  in  the  intervals. 

"  I  think  of  you  often  ;  I  talk  of  you  often  with  M. 
Ballanche.  You  will  either  be  a  great  grief  or  a  great 
happiness  to  me ;  and  that  will  depend  upon  yourself. 
I  embrace  you,  and  look  forward  impatiently  to  the 
17th  of  July. 

"  I  beg  Mme.  de  Gramont  to  accept  my  affectionate 
regards." 

1  From  the  day  I  was  brought  to  Paris  I  had  never  quitted  my 
aunt ;  but  when  the  time  of  my  first  communion  drew  near,  Mme. 
Recamier,  desiring  that  tliis  important  act  should  be  performed  in 
strict  retirement,  and  far  from  all  worldly  distractions,  placed  me 
at  the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  under  the  particular  charge 
of  Mme.  Eugenie  de  Gramont,  with  whom  she  was  very  intimate, 
and  whose  brother  had  married  the  daughter  of  her  friend,  the 
Marchioness  de  Catellan. 

I  passed  a  year  at  the  Sacred  Heart,  and  it  is  there  that  these 
letters  were  addressed  to  me. 


126        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RJ^CAMIER 

"  Aix-la-Chapelle,  Aug.  9,  1818. 

"I  have  received  youv  letters,  my  dear  little  girl,  and 
I  have  heard  of  you  through  M.  Ballanche  and  Paul. 
Tliey  tell  me  you  are  more  contented  and  in  good 
health.  I  recommend  you  to  employ  well  the  time  of 
our  separation,  that  I  may  have  all  the  more  pleasure 
in  our  meeting  again.  I  am  still  ill,  and  in  a  state  of 
mind  which  would  make  you  say  again,  '  I  have  truly 
the  saddest  of  aunts.'  I  hope  that  the  waters,  in  quiet- 
ing my  nerves,  will  give  me  more  strength  and  courage. 
Adieu,  dear  child  ;  I  embrace  you.     Pray  for  me. 

"  Present  my  respects  to  Mme.  de  Graraont." 


"  Aix-LA-CnAPELLB,  Aug.  26,  1818. 
"I  write  very  seldom  to  you,  my  poor  dear  little 
girl,  because  I  am  still  an  invalid ;  but  I  think  of  you 
a  great  deal,  and  with  lively  affection.  I  have  not  a 
grief,  not  a  vexation,  that  I  do  not  say  to  myself  that  I 
will  do  all  that  is  in  my  power  to  prevent  your  being 
exposed  to  the  same  trials.  In  your  happiness  I  hope 
to  find  my  consolation ;  prove  your  gratitude  by  striv- 
ing to  perform  all  your  duties.  I  have  been  deeply 
touched  by  your  praying  for  me  after  receiving  abso- 
lution. Poor  dear  little  one,  may  Heaven  bless  you, 
and  may  you  be  happier  than  II" 


TO  HER  NIECE.  127 

MMB.    R^CAMIEK    TO    HER    SISTER-IN-LAW,    MMB.    DELPHIN,    AT 

LYONS.' 

"  August  17,  1825. 

"It  is  a  very  long  time,  ray  dear  and  good  sister, 
since  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  communicating  with 
you.  I  know  that  you  complain  of  not  having  seen 
me  upon  my  return  from  Italy.  I  dare  say  that  if  you 
had  known  my  motives  you  would  approve  of  them, 
and  you  are  too  well  aware  of  my  aifection  to  suppose 
I  did  not  regret  it.  You  know,  my  good  sister,  that  we 
are  occupied  with  the  marriage  of  our  dear  Amelie.  M. 
Lenormant,  whom  we  think  of  for  her,  is  a  young  man 
of  twenty-four,  of  an  honorable  family,  perfectly  pure 
character,  and  of  distinguished  ability.  I  am  trying  to 
get  the  place  of  auditor  to  the  council  of  state  for  him, 
and  it  will  depend  upon  my  success  whether  the  mar- 
riage takes  place.  You  can  imagine,  my  good  sister, 
how  interested  I  am,  and  I  know  too  well  how  much 
affectionate  interest  you  take  in  us  all  to  be  afraid  of 
wearying  you  with  these  particulars.     You  know  that 


1  Mme.  Recamier  made  a  second  tour  of  Italy  in  1823,  while 
the  Duke  de  Laval  was  ambassador  at  Rome,  and  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand minister  of  foreign  aflairs.  She  was  accompanied  by  the 
good  and  faithful  Ballanche,  her  niece  Ame'lie,  and  J.  J.  Ampere. 
It  was  at  Naples  that  M.  Charles  Lenormant  was  presented  to  her. 
She  returned  to  France  in  June,  1825,  by  way  of  the  Simplon  and 
Geneva.  Mme.  Delphin,  her  sister-in-law,  had  expressed  much 
regret  that  she  had  not  stopped  to  see  her.  Mme.  Recamier  ex- 
plains to  her  in  this  letter  the  motives  which  hastened  her  return 
to  Paris. 

The  marriage  of  Mme.  Lenormant  took  place  February  1, 1826. 


128        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RlSCAMIER 

M.  Recaniier  1ms  met  with  new  losses ;  this  renders  our 
situation  still  harder,  and  makes  me  all  the  more  de- 
sirous for  the  establishment  of  Amelie.  After  having 
experienced  all  the  ills  of  this  life,  I  wish,  as  far  as  it 
dei)ends  upon  me,  to  secure  the  peace  of  mind  of  those 
I  love ;  and  you,  too,  my  good  sister,  you  have  had 
many  trials,  but  you  have  the  best  and  sweetest  of  con- 
solations, a  life  wholly  devoted  to  God  and  the  relief 
of  the  unfortunate ;  you  have  made  your  name  blessed, 
and  you  are  loved  and  venerated  as  you  deserve. 

"  I  counted  upon  sending  this  letter  to  you  by  Mme. 
Derbel,  but  she  was  not  certain  of  seeing  you  in  passing 
through,  as  she  will  only  stop  a  {e\v  hours.  She  has 
been  cruelly  tried,  and  bears  her  grief  with  as  much 
couraere  as  feelinsr.  Her  first  interview  with  her  mother- 
in-law  will  be  very  painful,  but  there  is  some  comfort 
in  sharing  with  another  our  regrets.  Adieu,  dear  and 
good  sister ;  pray  remember  me  to  your  son,  his  wife, 
and  all  your  family." 


"  From  the  Vallee-aux-Loups,  Easter  Sunday.^ 

"  I  desire,  my  poor  child,  to  reassure  you  on  the  sub- 
ject of  my  loneliness.  I  was  so  heart-broken  on  enter- 
ing this  house,  the  first  moments  were  so  sad,  that  I 
still  think  I  did  well  in  not  letting  you  come  with  me. 

1  Duke  Matthieu  de  Montmorency  died  suddenly,  from  the 
rupture  of  an  aneurism,  on  Good  Friday,  1826,  while  kneeling  at 
the  tomb  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  in  his  parish  church. 


TO  HER  NIECE.  129 

M.  Ballanche  and  Paul  ^  are  perfect,  as  you  know.  I 
have  heard  mass,  and  written  a  long  letter  to  Mrae.  de 
Montmorency.  I  expect  you  on  Wednesday  ;  the  first 
bitterness  will  be  over,  and  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  me 
to  see  you. 

"  Adieu,  dear  child." 


"  1826.  —  Angervillieks,  Sunday .^ 

"M.  de  Guizard,  who  leaves  immediately,  will  take 
this  note.  Mme.  de  Catellan  had  been  informed  of  the 
sad  news  by  letters  she  had  received.  She  was  very 
much  moved  and  touched  at  seeing  us.  She  is  alone 
with  Mme.  de  Gramont ;  we  cannot  leave  before 
Tuesday ;  we  shall  arrive  for  dinner  between  six  and 
seven  o'clock ;  we  shall  be  tired.  I  desire  to  find  only 
you  and  Charles  at  the  Abbaye.  Adieu,  dear  children. 
I  embrace  and  love  you.  Send  this  letter  to  Mme.  de 
Montmorency,  who  is  expecting  me." 


"Angervillieks,  Tuesday  evening. 
"  I  am  still  here,  detained  by  my  headaches ;  so,  dear 
child,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  arrive  on  Tuesday  as  I 


1  Paul  David,  nepliew  of  M.  Recamier,  a  man  of  original  mind 
and  devoted  heart.  His  friendship  was  as  delicate  and  faithful  as 
that  of  Ballanche.  He  survived  Mme.  Recamier,  who  made  him 
her  executor.  M.  de  Lomenie,  in  "  I'Ami  de  la  Religion  "  of  the 
25th  of  September,  1860,  has  devoted  some  charming  pages  to  the 
memory  of  this  good  man. 

2  Estate  of  the  Marchioness  de  Catellan. 

6*  I  , 


130       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RJSCAMIER 

hoped.  Paul  precedes  me,  that  you  may  not  be  alarmed 
by  this  delay.  He  will  give  you  particulars.  I  am  a 
little  cross  with  Mme.  de  Catellan,  and  I  reproach 
myself  for  it;  she  wishes  to  keep  me  at  any  rate;  but, 
dead  or  alive,  I  shall  arrive  on  Wednesday,  and  I  hope 
to  find  you  at  the  Abbaye.  I  am  very  much  afraid 
that  M.  Lenormant  is  making  my  absence  only  too  easy 
for  you  to  bear ;  but  I  am  generous,  and  still  sing  his 
praises  while  he  is  teaching  you  to  forget  me.  Adieu, 
then,  until  Wednesday.  Is  M.  de  Larochefoucauld 
appointed  ?  How  many  things  I  shall  have  to  learn 
upon  my  arrival!  I  have  received  a  letter  from  M. 
Ampere  which  came  by  post ;  inclosed  is  ray  reply, 
which  Joseph  must  take  as  well  as  the  letter  for  M. 
de  Chateaubriand. 

"  Word  must  be  sent  to  Mme.  de  Montmorency  that 
I  shall  not  arrive  on  Tuesday." 


M.  BALLANCHE  TO  MME.   LENORMANT. ^ 

"July  23,  1828. 

"  Mon  Dieu  I  How  far  away  you  are  from  us !  and 
how  much  farther  still  you  are  going !     In  taking  my 

1  It  will  perhaps  be  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  in 
1828  the  Duke  de  Laval-Montmorency  was  ambassador  to  Vienna, 
while  M.  de  Chateaubriand  had  rephiced  liim  at  Rome,  and  M. 
Lenormant  was  on  the  pohit  of  setting  out  witli  tlie  scientific  ex- 
pedition to  Egypt,  at  tlie  head  of  M'iiich  was  the  famous  Cham- 
pollion.  Mme.  Lenormant  accompanied  her  husband  as  far  as 
Toulon,  wliere  the  frigate  "  I'Egle  "  was  waiting  to  transport  tlie 
savans  to  Alexandria. 


TO  HER  NIECE.  lol 

short  moniing  stroll,  I  ara  reduced  to  merely  look- 
ing at  your  door,  and  in  the  evening  we  seek  you  in 
vain,  whether  in  the  charming  little  room  or  in  the 
fine  salon  de  Corinne.  You  arrived  at  Lyons  very 
much  fatigued,  no  doubt,  and  we  were  not  there  to 
know  it,  and  to  persuade  you  not  to  continue  your 
journey  if  your  strength  were  not  equal  to  your  cour- 
age. The  weather  is  still  execrable.  I  trust  that  you 
will  get  into  better  as  you  proceed. 

"On  Monday  evening,  by  way  of  being  a  little  in 
your  company  again,  we  read  M.  Lenormant's  article,^ 
which  both  instructed  and  interested  us.  It  is  satis- 
factory to  see  a  special  idea  referred  to  a  general  idea  : 
unity  of  thought  is  the  sole  and  true  condition  under 
which  any  thing  can  be  produced,  whether  in  art, 
poetry,  or  even  in  letters.  Scattered  ideas  isolated 
from  each  other,  without  a  common  centre,  are  fugitive 
and  barren. 

"  Yesterday  morning  I  returned  the  proofs  to  the 
printer ;  they  have  given  me  very  little  trouble ;  they 
are  to  be  submitted  to  M.  Guizot's  revision.  Yester- 
day, at  three  o'clock,  we,  that  is,  Mme.  Recamier  and  I, 
took  a  short  turn  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  It  was  not 
very  pleasant;  however,  we  took  advantage  of  a  few 
fine  moments  to  walk  a  little.  We  talked  of  nothing 
but  the  travellers.  Your  aunt  had  passed  a  more  com- 
fortable night,  and  she  remarked  that  she  was  inclined 
to  reproach  herself  for  feeling  better  when  she  thought 

1  An  article  on  Greek  vases  in  the  "  Revue  rran9aise." 


132        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RECAMIER 

of  you,  overcome  with  fatigue  and  perhaps  even  ill.  In 
the  evening  we  had  no  one  but  Mile,  de  Martigny,  and 
after  Paul  and  I  had  left  your  aunt  was  taken  unwell 
again.  But,  at  all  events,  the  day  had  been  a  good  one, 
and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  these  tolerable  days  will 
become  more  frequent,  and  her  health  be  at  last  re- 
established. 

"  The  evening  before,  Messrs.  de  Catellan,  Montbel, 
Auguste  Lefebvre,  Jussieu,  Mrae.  d'lTautefeuille  came. 
We  have  good  news  of  Ampere,  Jun.  M.  de  Catellan 
is  to  leave.  Mme.  de  Gramont  has  returned  to  see  her 
physician  about  her  health,  which  is  still  poor.  In  the 
way  of  news,  I  must  tell  you  that  several  of  the  bishops 
now  in  Paris,  among  others  M.  de  Chdverus,  think  that 
the  civil  authorities  ha\e  not  exceeded  their  powers  in 
the  famous  Ordinances.  At  least  that  is  what  was  said 
night  before  last.  My  respectful  remembrances  to  your 
mother-in-law,  Mme.  Lenormant ;  embrace  for  me,  if 
you  please,  the  young  antiquary.  Send  us  news  of 
yourself  regularly,  and  let  it  be  somewhat  in  detail. 
We  are  expecting  impatiently  M.  Puy,  who  is  to  come 
to  Paris  after  seeing  you  all  at  Lyons.  I  hope  also  to 
have  news  of  you  through  Bredin  and  Revoil. 

"  M.  Recamier  was  a  little  indisposed  last  evening ; 
he  is  better  this  morning ;  it  amounts  to  nothing.     My 

^^^^1°^^-  "Ballanche." 

Mme.  Recamier  added  a  few  lines  to  this  letter  :  — 

"  Here  is  a  kind  letter,  dear  Amelie,  from  M.  Bal- 
lanche.     I,  too,  desire  to  tell  you  how  impatiently  I 


TO  HER  NIECE.  133 

am  waiting  to  hear  from  you.  I  hope  to  have  a  letter 
to-day  :  everybody  I  see  asks  me  for  news  of  the  young 
travellers  with  the  most  affectionate  interest.  I  saw  yes- 
terday M.  de  Larochefoucauld,  who  starts  for  the  Pyre- 
nees. The  Duke  de  Laval,  whom  I  also  saw  yesterday, 
was  very  sorry  tliat  he  arrived  at  your  house  a  moment 
too  late  to  bid  you  good-by.  I  was  better  yesterday, 
but  to-day  my  illness  and  melancholy  have  returned. 
Adieu,  dear  child.  I  love  and  embrace  you.  I  am 
very  anxious  to  hear  of  your  safe  arrival :  write  me  a 
long  letter  the  day  of  the  departure.  Poor  dear  little 
one !     How  I  dread  that  moment ! " 


"  August  4,  1828. 
"  So  you  are  all  alone  now,  my  poor  Am^lie !  In 
reading  the  words  '  it  is  to-morrow^  my  eyes  filled  with 
teai's ;  I  felt  all  that  you  were  feeling ;  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  preparations  necessary  for  so  long  a  jour- 
ney, my  impulse  would  have  been  to  start  at  once  and 
go  to  you,  that  you  might  not  be  alone  with  your  sor- 
row. M.  Lenormant's  letter  went  to  my  heart.  I  see 
that  at  the  moment  of  departure  he  was  overcome  with 
grief  at  leaving  you ;  that  he  had  need  of  all  your 
courage  to  sustain  his  own ;  and  you  know,  perhaps, 
now  that  it  is  probable  that  this  separation  will  be 
much  shorter  than  you  expected,  and  that  the  trav- 
ellers will  find  at  Alexandria  orders  to  return  to 
France.^ 

1  It  was  feared  that  the  war  in  Greece  as  well  as  in  Turkey 
would  be  an  obstacle  to  the  peaceable  labors  of  the  scientific 


134       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

"  The  happiness  of  returning  to  you  will,  console  M. 
Lenormant  for  not  continuing  his  journey  ;  and  I  con- 
fess I  could  not  help  feeling  a  secret  joy  at  hearing  this 
news  which  will  abridge  your  sorrow.  As  to  myself^  I 
am  again  very  unsettled.  1  will  write  you  when  all  is 
decided.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  most  kindly  taken 
charge  of  the  note  for  M.  Hyde  de  Neuville.  He  still 
expects  to  leave  on  the  1st  of  September.  I  pass  my 
days  in  a  painful  uncertainty,  from  which  1  know  not 
how  to  extricate  myself  I  must  not  talk  to  you  of 
happiness,  my  poor  child,  when  your  heart  is  torn ;  but 
your  griefs  are  passing  ones,  and  your  lot  seems  so 
sweet  to  me  that  I  would  willingly  give  the  brightest 
days  of  my  life  for  your  saddest  ones.  M.  Ballanche, 
Paul,  and  all  my  friends  talk  of  nothing  but  you." 


"  August  21, 1828. 

"  I  am  distressed,  my  poor  Amelie,  at  all  the  trouble 
which  Paul's  letter  has  caused  you.  lie,  as  well  as 
M.  Ballanche,  is  going  to  write  to  you.  I  have  a  letter 
for  you  from  Mme.  de  Turpin  ;  thinking  that  it  might 

commission.  M.  Drovetti,  French  consul-general  at  Alexandria, 
thought  it  his  duty  to  write  to  ChampoUion  a  letter  wliich  crossed 
him  upon  the  sea.  By  tlie  advice  of  tlie  viceroy  himself,  he  begged 
the  illustrious  French  savant  to  postpone  his  voyage  to  another 
year.  M.  Lenormant,  in  his  letters  from  Egypt,  relates  this  in- 
cident, and  adds :  "  Our  coming  caused,  therefore,  a  moment's 
embarrassment  to  M.  Drovetti ;  as  for  the  Paslia,  like  a  true  prince, 
he  at  once  exclaimed,  '  Let  them  be  welcome,'  and  the  affair  was 
settled  in  a  trice." 


TO  HER  NIECE.  135 

give  you  pleasure,  I  lose  not  a  moment  in  sending 
it  to  you.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  lately  been  ill. 
His  joui'ney  is  still  fixed  for  the  beginning  of  Sep- 
tember. 

"  How  sad  are  all  these  departures !  how  hard  a 
thing  is  life!  When  shall  Ave  be  all  together  again? 
Adieu,  my  poor  dear  Amelie ;  return  as  soon  as  you 
can,  and  repose  on  my  heart  while  waiting  for  some- 
thing better,  and  try  to  quiet  your  poor  imagination, 
and  take  care  of  your  health.  M.  Lenormant  must  find 
you  upon  his  return  fresh  '  as  the  queen  of  flowers' " 


"  April  21,  1829.1 

"  Here,  dear  child,  are  Mme.  de  Boigne's  letters.  I 
have  heard  nothing  sad  of  Sebastiane.  You  know  all 
our  troubles.  I  stayed  until  midnight  yesterday  with 
M.  Recamier;  meanwhile,  all  our  friends  came  to  the 
Abbaye  to  inquire  after  you.  M.  Recamier  is  better 
this  morning.  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  conge  has  gone. 
I  received  yesterday  a  letter  of  eight  pages  from  him ; 

1  M.  Lenormant  accompanied  Champollion  as  far  as  the  second 
cataract,  and  then  returned  to  Alexandria  to  reimbark  for  France. 
But  he  found,  on  arriving  at  Alexandria,  that  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed assistant-director  of  the  archasological  section  of  the 
scientific  commission  which  the  French  government  had  sent  to 
the  Morea.  He  therefore  proceeded  to  Greece,  studying  the 
monuments  for  four  months.  He  had  given  his  wife  permission 
to  join  him,  and  she  was  waiting  at  Toulon  for  him  to  meet  her. 
He  intended  to  petition  for  a  renewal  of  his  commission,  but  on 
account  of  M.  de  Polignac  becoming  minister,  he  declined  to  ask 
any  favors. 


136        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

he  is  very  much  excited.  I  have  seen  M.  Delecluze. 
Inclosed  is  a  letter  from  him,  also  one  from  Canaris : 
it  pains  me  to  have  to  send  you  all  these  things.  I 
especially  recommend  to  you  the  letter  for  Zante ;  you 
know  what  you  promised  me.  What  a  pity  that  we 
are  not  together !  but  that  was  not  possible.  I  was 
much  overcome  upon  entering  your  deserted  home. 
M.  Ballanche  and  Paul  haA^e  promised  to  give  you  all 
details;  you  know  that  I  do  not  write;  they  will  tell 
you  all ;  but  no  one  can  tell  you  how  much  I  miss  you. 
I  did  not  try  to  keep  you,  I  understood  you  too  well, 
and  I  saw  you  were  so  happy  !  Say  to  M.  Lenorraant 
how  much  I  was  touched  by  his  letter.  The  moment 
of  your  meeting  will  be  a  happy  one  in  your  life.  I 
have  need  to  let  my  thoughts  rest  upon  it,  and  I  shall 
have  no  peace  until  I  know  you  are  reunited.  Direct 
all  your  letters  as  we  agreed  upon.  I  am  your  charge 
cV affaires^  tell  me  what  you  want  me  to  do.  I  hope 
that  as  much  honor  will  accrue  to  M.  Lenormant  from 
this  expedition  as  from  the  one  to  Egyjjt,  and  that  it 
will  prepare  the  way  for  a  good  situation  on  his  return. 
"  Adieu,  adieu !  I  am  going  to  write  to  M.  de 
Chateaubriand  by  a  courier  who  leaves  this  morning; 
then  I  shall  go  and  stay  with  M.  Recamier  in  your 
little  room  until  evening.  I  no  longer  know  what  I  am 
writing.  Adieu,  alas  !  adieu.  Take  good  care  of  your- 
self; be  prudent,  and  lose  no  opportunity  of  writing  to 
us." 


TO  HER  NIECE.  137 

"  May  11,  1829. 
"  I  hasten,  poor  dear  child,  to  forward  you  this  letter, 
which  has  been  sent  here  by  accident,  instead  of  to  you. 
The  situation  in  which  you  are  placed,  this  cruel  un- 
certainty, this  isolation,  —  every  thing  distresses  me.  I 
am  also  very  anxious  about  matters  in  Rome.  The 
Duke  de  Laval  has  refused,  but  whom  will  they  ap- 
point ?  M.  de  Chateaubriand  is  waiting.  His  wife  will 
arrive  in  a  few  days.  M.  Recamier  is  remarkably  well. 
I  have  been  very  ill ;  I  am  a  little  better ;  but  I  shall 
not  have  a  moment's  peace  while  I  know^  that  you  are 
in  this  state  of  uncertainty.  We  talk  of  you  constantly, 
and  we  are  going  to  try  to  arrange  it  so  that  you  shall 
have  a  letter  every  day.  Take  courage,  dear  child  of 
my  heart,  and  think  of  the  time  when  we  shall  all  be 
together  again.  I  cannot  advise  you,  since  your  fate 
depends  upon  your  husband's  reply.  I  hope  your  very 
sensible  letter  will  convince  him.  It  will  then  remain 
to  be  seen  whether  you  are  to  proceed  to  Zante  or 
return  to  us,  and  you  can  imagine  with  what  anxiety 
we  await  the  decision." 


"  Paris,  May  21,  1829. 

"  I  wrote  you  a  long  letter,  but  I  tore  it  up  at  the 
last  moment.  I  will  tell  you  why  some  day,  but  I  re- 
proach, myself  for  having  delayed  a  letter  fi'om  Paul. 
He  has  probably  written  to  you  to-day.  The  idea  of 
your  loneliness  is  always  haunting  us ;  we  talk  of  it 
constantly.    Meanwhile  the  days  go  by  with  me  as  with 


138        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

you ;  I  suffer  much,  and  the  pleasures  of  the  world  have 
lost  their  charm  for  me. 

"M.  de  Chateaubriand  will  soon  be  here.  I  am  more 
troubled  at  the  situation  in  which  he  will  find  himself 
than  happy  in  the  thought  of  seeing  him  again.  I  do 
not  know  whether  he  will  return  to  Italy  or  no.  The 
uncertainty  attending  your  movements  as  well  as  his 
plunges  me  also  into  a  state  of  perplexity,  and  I  can 
form  no  plans.  I  saw  your  mother-in-law  yesterday, 
who  is  truly  an  excellent  woman.  I  was  so  ill  that  I 
was  obliged  to  leave  a  room  full  of  people  and  go  to 
bed.  Everybody  asks  after  you  ;  it  is  always  the  first 
question  addressed  to  me.  It  is  impossible  to  inspire 
more  interest,  or  to  have  a  better  and  more  charming 
reputation.  I  am  very  proud  of  my  work,  though  I 
recognize  that  I  have  had  very  little  hand  in  it,  and 
that  God  has  blessed  my  intentions  rather  than  my 
skill.  We  are  all  expecting  with  an  anxious  impatience 
the  letters  that  are  to  decide  your  future  course.  I 
will  write  to  you  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand. Adieu,  dear  child ;  take  courage,  and  think  of 
the  bright  future  of  happiness  in  store  for  you." 


"  May  26,  1829. 
"Yes,  dear  child  of  my  heart,  I  can  well  imagine 
your  great  joy  on  learning  that  M.  Lenormant  would 
soon  arrive,  and  when  I  know  that  you  have  met,  I 
shall  be  tranquil.  Tell  him  all  our  grief  at  parting 
from  you,  but  enjoy  without  any  alloy  the  happiness  of 


M.    DE   CHATEAUBRIAND 

from  a  rare  engraving 


TO  HER  NIECE.  139 

this  reunion.  You  have  done  what  I  should  have  done 
in  your  phice.  We  have  all  suffered  much,  but  we 
shall  all  meet  again,  and  you  will  have  given  to  M. 
Lenormant  a  pi'oof  of  affection  the  remembrance  of 
which  will  shed  a  charm  the  more  over  all  your  future 
life.  Tell  him  how  much  I  am  attached  to  him  ;  how 
grateful  I  am  to  him  for  your  happiness;  but  say  to  him 
also  that  he  ought  to  adore  me  for  having  given  him 
such  a  wife.  Can  you  read  me,  dear  child  ?  I  write 
with  difficulty,  being  tormented  by  sharp  rheumatic 
pains  in  my  head  ;  I  have  not  closed  my  eyes  all  night. 
It  is  nothing,  however ;  it  will  all  pass  off  in  a  day  or 
two ;  but  for  the  moment  the  pain  is  unbearable.  In- 
closed is  a  letter  from  Lina,  who  has  also  written  to  me. 
I  had  two  letters  yesterday  by  a  special  courier  from 
the  Duke  de  Laval.  They  are  dated  a  week  apart.  He 
is  far  from  suspecting  the  blow  which  is  about  to  fall 
on  his  head.  He  will  arrive  at  the  same  time  with  M. 
de  Chateaubriand.  Here  is  an  opportunity  for  me  to 
exercise  my  great  talents.  I  truly  think  that  I  can  be 
useful  to  them :  this  is  a  consolation  in  the  midst  of  all 
my  sorrows.  M.  Recainier  is  much  better  ;  our  friends 
are  very  good,  and  affectionately  interested  in  you.  We 
are  all  waiting  anxiously  for  news  from  Toulon.  Adieu, 
dear  child ;  I  press  you  to  my  heart." 


•'  June  1,  1829. 

"  You  know  all  the  particulars  respecting  the  Abbaye, 
dear  little  one ;  M.  Ballanche,  Paul,  M.  R^amier  must 
have  written  you  long  letters.     M.  de  Chateaubriand 


140        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  Rl^CAMIER 

urrived  on  Thursday ;  I  was  very  happy  to  see  him 
again,  —  happier  even  than  I  thought  I  should  be.  The 
only  thing  wanting  now  to  my  full  enjoyment  is  to 
know  that  you  are  happy.  Your  solitude  weighs  on  my 
heart.  I  cannot  give  you  any  advice  owing  to  the 
uncertainty  I  am  in  myself.  If  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
returns  to  Rome,  it  is  probable  that  I  shall  pass  the 
winter  there.  Perhaps  also  my  health  may  oblige  me 
to  go  this  summer  to  Dieppe  for  the  sea-bathing.  But 
by  that  time  your  fate  will  be  decided.  Mme.  Auguste 
Pasquier  is  very  ill.  I  have  not  seen  Paul  for  three 
days.  I  am  expecting  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who  is 
having  an  audience  of  the  king,  and  is  coming  to  give 
me  an  account  of  the  interview.  You  know  that  our 
unfortunate  mortgage  bank  is  going  to  break :  it  is  dis- 
astrous. I  see  a  good  deal  of  company,  —  M.  Villemain, 
whom  I  find  very  pleasant,  M.  de  Sainte-Aulaire.  But 
it  is  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  arrival  that  has  renewed  my 
life,  which  seemed  almost  extinct.  My  own  feelings  are 
still  so  youthful  that  I  can  the  better  understand  yours : 
this  is  another  bond  of  sympathy  between  us,  and  I  am 
the  one  in  whom  your  poor  heart  should  wholly  con- 
fide." 


M.    BALLANCHE    TO    MME.    LENORMANT. 

"June  18,  1829. 
"  It  seems  to  me  that  the  end  of  your  exile  is  near. 
I  trust  that  you  are  now  profiting  by  the  little  time  left 
you,  to  take  sea  baths.     I  cannot  tell  you  what  impor- 
tance I  attach  to  health ;  with  it  one  enjoys  more  and 


TO  HER  NIECE.  141 

can  endure  more.  That  you  will  go  to  the  Morea  does 
not  now  seem  probable.  M.  Lenorinant  cannot  much 
longer  delay  returning ;  and  as  for  you,  it  would  not 
be  worth  your  while,  for  the  short  time  you  will  have 
to  remain  there,  to  undergo  the  different  quarantines 
to  which  you  would  doubtless  be  subjected.  M.  Lenor- 
mant  is  making  his  circuit  independently  of  the  com- 
mission. The  important  thing  for  him  is  that  he  has 
done  it;  his  future  is  assured.  Doubtless  I  shall  have 
many  questions  to  ask  him,  and  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
be  able  to  give  him  a  mass  of  information.  I  am  grow- 
ing old,  I  no  longer  have  any  hope  of  visiting  places 
which,  nevertheless,  it  would  be  very  useful  to  me  to 
visit,  not  for  the  work  I  am  upon  at  present,  but  for 
<  Zenobia,'  if  ever  I  undertake  an  epic  poem  upon  the 
early  days  of  Christianity.     Well,  well,  we  shall  see. 

"  Yesterday  there  was  a  brilliant  assembly  at  the 
Abbaye-aux-Bois  to  hear  '  Moses'  read.  Lafond  ^  read 
very  badly,  because  the  manuscript  was  bad ;  but  M. 
de  Chateaubriand  took  it  and  read  it  himself;  so 
what  was  lost  in  the  reading  was  amply  made  up  in  the 
interest.  Your  aunt,  however,  was  upon  thorns ;  but 
be  assured  that  all  went  off  very  well,  and  every  one 
was  delighted,  as  it  was  natural  they  should  be.  Among 
the  auditors  I  shall  confine  myself  to  mentioning  Mes- 
dames  Appony,  de  Fontanes,  and  Gay;  MM.  Cousin, 
Villemain,  Le  Brun,  Lamartine,  Latouche,  Dubois, 
Saint-Marc-Girardin,  Valery,  Merimee,  Gerard,  and  the 
Dukes  de  Doudeauville  and  de  Broglie  ;  MM.  de  Sainte- 


1  Of  the  Theatre  Franfais. 


142        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

Aulaire,  de  Barante,  and  David ;  Mme.  de  Boigne,  Mine. 
de  Gramont,  Baron  Pasquier,  Mme.  and  Mile,  de  Ba- 
rante, and  the  Miles,  de  Sainte- Aulaire,  Dugas-Montbel, 
&c.  I  might  as  well  have  given  you  at  once  a  complete 
list,  for  it  was  very  select.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  was 
in  his  best  mood.  He  manifested  no  annoyance  when 
his  beautiful  verses  were  mangled,  and  he  was  very 
obliging  in  reading  some  passages,  besides  a  whole  act. 
He  received,  as  you  may  imagine,  a  great  many  well- 
merited  compliments. 

"  Ampere  was  to  have  been  at  the  reading,  but  he 
does  not  arrive  till  to-day.  He,  like  a  good  son,  has 
been  to  see  his  father,  whose  health  gives  him  some 
anxiety.  Mme.  R^camier  i-eceived  this  morning  a  let- 
ter from  him,  in  which  he  appears  less  uneasy.  THs 
young  man  is  very  attractive,  and  he  will  not  be  one  of 
those  you  will  be  the  least  pleased  to  meet  again. 

"  You  ask  me  for  news  of  what  they  are  pleased  to 
call  my  little  '  church.'  It  is  still  progressing.  The  so- 
called  progressionists  desire  to  put  themselves  under  my 
wing,  and  will  not  publish  any  thing  except  under  my 
direction.  This  is  very  well,  but  one  has  to  begin  by 
establishing  the  enterprise  upon  a  sure  foundation,  and 
that  is  not  an  easy  thing.  I  should  like  to  talk  to  you 
of  ministerial  matters,  but,  in  truth,  I  know  nothing  of 
them. 

"I  am  writing  at  your  aunt's,  and  cede  the  pen  to 
her.  I  will  say  no  more,  but  only  assure  you  of  my 
love  and  of  the  interest  I  take  in  your  exile,  for  your 
own  sake  and  for  the  sake  of  us  all." 


TO  HER  NIECE.  143 

FROM    MME.    RECAMIEK. 

"M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  who  has  just  come  in,  only 
leaves  me  time  to  embrace  you,  and  say  to  you  how- 
much  I  miss  you,  and  how  weary  I  am  of  the  sort  of 
dissipation  in  which  I  find  myself  plunged.  W  hen  shall 
I  resume  our  pleasant  and  peaceful  habits  ?  When  shall 
I  see  you  again,  dear  child  of  my  heart  ?  " 


TO    MME.    LENORMANT. 

"  Dieppe,  August  10,  1829. 

"  So  you  are  still  alone,  my  poor  child,  but  it  is  only 
for  a  very  short  time.  I  have  written  to  your  husband, 
inclosing  him  a  letter  that  I  have  received  from  M.  de 
la  Rochefoucauld ;  he  will  surely  be  pleased  with  it,  and 
we  must  soon  come  to  a  decision  of  some  sort.  A  new 
ministry  is  talked  about ;  it  is  to  be  completely  ultra : 
in  that  case,  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  I  think,  would  send 
in  his  resignation ;  and  it  is  possible  also  that  this  event 
may  cause  M.  Lenormant's  request  to  miscarry.  So 
you  see  what  we  have  to  fear,  and  that  this  unlucky 
chance  may  bring  us  all  together  again  in  Paris.  If  I 
did  not  apprehend  danger,  or  at  least  an  alarming 
tendency  for  France  in  this  movement,  I  could  scarcely 
help  rejoicing  at  it.  However,  a  few  days  more  and 
we  shall  know  our  fate. 

"I  am  here  in  the  midst  o^  fetes,  princesses,  illumi- 
nations, plays.  Two  of  my  windows  face  the  ball- 
room, and  the  other  two  the  theatre.  In  the  midst  of 
all  this  bustle  I  live  in  perfect  solitude ;  I  sit  and  dream 


144        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

by  the  sea-shore ;  I  pass  in  review  all  the  melancholy 
events  of  my  life.  I  trust  that  you  will  be  happier 
than  I  have  been.  I  am  deeply  touched  by  the  affec- 
tion you  still  have  for  me,  when  it  would  be  so  natural 
for  you  to  be  absorbed  by  quite  another  feeling.  Your 
image  has  a  jjlace  in  'all  my  dreams ;  it  is  through  you 
that  I  have  a  future.  If  you  make  the  journey,  we  will 
resign  ourselves  to  it  by  thinking  of  the  influence  it 
may  have  on  M.  Lenormant's  whole  career;  if  we  do 
not  succeed,  resignation  will  be  still  more  easy,  and  we 
shall  all  meet  again  in  a  few  weeks. 

"  I  have  met  here  Leonie  de  B,  She  was  under  the 
impression  that  you  had  married  an  old  savant.^  —  a 
pedant.  Imagine  my  pleasure  in  telling  her  that  this  old 
savant  was  a  young  man  only  twenty-five,  with  a  most 
elegant  figure,  a  very  handsome  face,  and  brilliant  con- 
versational powers.  Poor  Leonie  is  not  very  agreeable ; 
I  think  she  is  tired  of  remaining  unmarried.  Her 
mother  is  veiy  attentive  to  me.  I  also  see  Mme.  An- 
nisson  ;  she  is  particularly  polite  to  me,  and  pleases  me 
on  her  brother's  account  as  well  as  her  own  ;  but  I  pass 
almost  all  my  time  in  reading  and  talking  with  M. 
Ballanche,  who  adapts  himself  perfectly  to  our  solitary 
life.  He  is  lodged  in  a  sort  of  tower,  where  he  has  a 
view  of  the  sea ;  he  is  working  on  his  '  Palingenesie,' 
and  seems  the  most  contented  man  in  the  world.  Poor 
Ampere  has  gone  to  Lyons ;  he  is  very  uneasy  about 
his  father,  who  has  been  ordered  to  try  his  native  air. 
The  son  is  to  return  at  the  end  of  this  month.  His 
care  for  his  father  is  very  touching.     He  accompanied 


TO  HER  NIECE.  145 

me,  when  I  left  for  Dieppe,  as  far  as  the  first  stopping- 
place  for  the  night.  As  I  travelled  alone,  and  by  short 
stages,  we  arrived  very  early,  took  a  walk,  had  supper, 
some  reading,  and  then  he  left  to  rejoin  his  father ; 
he  travelled  by  night  in  a  wretched  conveyance,  but  he 
was  delighted  with  our  little  journey ;  it  was  a  pleasant 
change  for  him  in  his  troubles.  How  I  have  gone  into 
particulars,  but  I  know  that  you  have  plenty  of  leisure. 
If  M.  Lenormant  were  with  you  I  should  not  write  so 
long  a  letter.  I  rely  upon  your  skill  to  decipher  my 
scrawl.  I  hope,  at  all  events,  to  see  M.  Lenormant  be- 
fore his  departure.     I  embrace  and  love  you." 


FKOM   BONNETABLE,  THE   RESIDENCE  OF  THE   DUCHESS   MATTHIEU 

DE    MONTMORENOT. 

"  Thursday,  August  15,  1830. 

"  So  you  are  alone,  poor  little  one !  I  shall  think  of 
you  more  constantly  than  ever  during  these  days  of 
your  husband's  absence.  I  have  not  been  able  to  de- 
cipher the  day  of  return  ;  it  is  the  fault  of  my  eyes,  or 
the  fine  English  handwriting.  I  hope  to  be  in  Paris  be- 
tween the  25th  and  27th,  but  I  do  not  dare  yet  to  talk 
of  leaving.  I  find  here  all  that  I  came  to  seek,  and  if  my 
heart  did  not  draw  me  back  to  you  I  would  willingly 
prolong  my  sojourn  in  this  solitude.  Paul  tells  me  that 
you  are  perfectly  Avell,  but  that  does  not  prevent  my 
being  anxious.  I  have  received  a  letter  from  the  Duke 
de  Laval,  which  seems  to  me  to  show  such  true  feeling 
that  I  desire  to  send  it  to  you  that  you  may  share  my 
7  J 


146        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

impressions,  and  also  know  liis  plans,  which  must  affect 
M.  Lenormant's  journey. 

"Adieu,  dear  Amelie,  dear  child.     Say  to  M.  Bal 
lanche  that  I  will  write  to  him  to-morrow,  and  to  Paul 
the  next  day.     The  chapel  of  the  chateau  was  formerly 
M.  de  Montmorency's  chamber.     You  can  well  imagine 
how  these  reminiscences  go  to  my  heart. 

"  Send  me  back  the  Duke  de  Laval's  letter.  Send 
Fran9ois  immediately  with  the  letter  for  M.  de  Cha- 
teaubriand." 

"  Maintenon,  August  10,  1835. 

"  You  have  heard,  dear  Amelie,  by  a  letter  from  M. 
Ampere,  the  particulars  of  our  pilgrimage  to  Chapelle- 
Saint-Eloi.  We  arrived  yesterday  at  Maintenon.  M. 
and  Mme.  de  Noailles  ai-e  perfectly  charming  in  their 
own  house.  It  is  impossible  for  hospitality  to  be  more 
noble,  more  elegant,  more  refined  in  every  particulai-, 
and  at  the  same  time  more  simple  and  easy.  The  Duke 
de  Laval  arrived  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  us,  and  I 
think  we  shall  see  M.  de  Chateaubriand  to-day.  I  shall 
arrange  with  him  the  precise  time  of  my  return,  and 
then  I  shall  immediately  notify  Paul.  I  should  like 
very  much  to  know  your  plans,  and  especially  whether 
it  be  possible  for  us  to  pass  a  few  weeks  together. 

"  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  arrived. 

"  I  have  just  been  talking  with  M.  de  Chateaubriand. 
He  leaves  on  Thursday  and  I  on  Saturday;  and  so, 
dear  Amelie,  good-by  until  Saturday  night.  I  am 
very  happy  at  the  thought  of  our  meeting  ;  I  certainlj' 


TO  HER  NIECE.  147 

hope  to  find  you  at  the  Abbaye.  I  shall  anive,  I  think, 
between  seven  and  eight  o'clock ;  we  sliall  dine  at  Ver- 
sailles." 

"  Paris,  September  6,  1835. 
"  I  am  delighted,  my  dear  Am^lie,  to  know  that  you 
have  all  arrived  safely  at  your  journey's  end.  There  is 
no  talk  of  the  departure  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  quite 
the  contrary.  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  seen  him  when 
he  did  not  repel  the  idea  of  a  future  in  France ;  judge 
how  I  encourage  in  him  this  state  of  mind.  He  even 
talks  of  refurnishing  his  house  as  soon  as  he  has  sold 
his '  Memoires.'  In  that  case,  I  shall  take  the  large  salo7i 
of  the  Abbaye  ;  we  will  have  a  dinner  every  fortnight ; 
and  I  shall  pass  two  or  three  of  the  summer  months 
with  you  in  the  charming  valley.  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
will  establish  himself  in  the  little  inn  already  known  to 
him.  These  projects,  which  will  bring  together  all  my 
dearest  interests,  delight  me,  but  I  dare  not  rely  upon 
them.  However,  dear  child,  one  thing  is  certain,  that 
I  am  very  much  pleased  and  touched  that  you  and  your 
husband  should  have  set  your  hearts  so  much  upon  this 
reunion.  I  have  pictured  it  to  myself  as  so  charming, 
that  it  will  be  very  hard  to  be  obliged  to  renounce  it. 
Give  my  affectionate  remembrances  to  your  husband. 
I  am  not  anxious  about  his  course  of  lectures,  which 
will  assuredly  meet  with  the  approval  of  the  educated, 
and  I  hope  also  of  the  ignorant,  who  will  like  being 
instructed  in  so  pleasing  a  manner.  I  judge  by  myself, 
as  I  find  always  so  much  to  interest  me  in  his  conver- 


148       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RJ^CAMIER 

satioD.  Adieu,  my  dear,  kind  Amelie.  Embrace  your 
two  little  girls  for  me,  and  be  assured  that  I  have  never 
more  earnestly  desired  that  my  life  should  not  be 
passed  apart  from  yours." 


"  Paris,  August  23,  1836. 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you  myself,  dear  Amelie,  all  my  re- 
grets. I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  start  next  Monday; 
all  my  preparations  were  made;  I  had  an  excellent 
carriage ;  we  would  have  had  delightful  drives  all  about 
your  neighborhood  ;  I  was  taking  great  pleasure  in  the 
thought  of  this  reunion  in  your  poor  little  valley,  which 
I  so  often  anathematize.  My  health,  which  is  an  obsta- 
cle to  every  thing,  again  stands  in  the  way ;  my  friends 
think  me  so  unwise  to  undertake  a  journey  in  my  con- 
dition, they  are  so  uneasy  about  it,  that  they  have  at 
last  dissuaded  me  from  it.  I  give  up,  therefore,  for  this 
year,  my  visit,  and  look  forward  to  the  end  of  Septem- 
ber. I  shall  take  care  in  time  toj^revent  this  happening 
again  next  summer.  I  have  been  worried  about  the 
health  of  your  children,  your  anxieties,  and  your  soli- 
tude ;  we  must  have  no  more  of  these  long  separations. 
I  have  too  short  a  time  to  live  to  be  willing  to  submit 
to  them.  I  am  thinking  of  a  little  house  near  Paris 
where  I  could  receive  you  without  being  separated 
from  my  friends  here,  who  would  be  left  too  solitary. 
We  will  talk  it  over,  and  try  to  manage  it.  I  am  very 
much  touched  by  the  joy  my  dear  Juliette  showed  at 
the  prospect  of  my  coming.     I  also  shall  be  delighted 


TO  HER  NIECE.  149 

to  see  that  lovable  child.  Your  last  letter  has  revived 
all  my  regrets ;  in  truth,  there  was  no  need.  M.  Lenor- 
mant  will  be  with  you  in  a  few  days ;  you  will  no  longer 
be  alone.  My  life  goes  on  without  change;  Ampere 
is  away ;  Ballanche  is  full  of  great  schemes,  and  I  am 
very  uneasy  about  him ;  I  fear  his  affaii's  are  in  a  sad 
state.  He  is  sacrificing  the  little  fortune  which  is  suffi- 
cient to  make  him  happy  and  independent  to  the 
millions  he  hopes  to  gain.  He  said  to  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand, who  regrets  having  sold  his  '  Memoires,'  '  I  will 
buy  them  back ;  I  can  get  them  for  three  or  four  hun- 
dred thousand  francs.'  It  would  be  laughable,  if  it  were 
not  distressing,  to  see  so  excellent  a  man  plunging  into 
endless  embaiTassments. 

"Adieu,  dear  friend;   I   embrace  you  with  all  my 
heart." 


"  September  3,  1838. 

"I  have  counted  upon  M.  Lenormant's  giving  you 
news  of  the  Abbaye,  as  somewhat  better  than  the  letters 
of  my  dame  de  compagnie.  In  writing  to  you  myself, 
I  can  hardly  be  a  substitute  for  him.  He  has  doubtless 
told  you  how  much  I  miss  you,  how  I  dislike  these 
long  separations,  when  we  might  be  so  happy  together. 
But  I  need  repose  first  of  all ;  nevertheless,  I  went  to 
the  rehearsal  of  the  opera  by  Berlioz.  The  theatre  was 
quite  full,  the  audience  very  cold,  and  I,  like  the  audi- 
ence, for  I  was  so  tired,  and  had  such  a  bad  seat,  that 
Dupr^  himself  gave  me  no  pleasure.  I  was  with  Mme. 
Salvage,  Eugene,  and  Ampere ;  they  are  both  going 


150       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R^CAMIER 

away  in  a  few  days.  I  trust  you  will  come  with  your 
husband  before  his  departure  for  Italy.  I  dare  not  wish 
to  keep  you  during  his  absence,  since  the  country  is  so 
beneficial  to  your  health  and  that  of  your  children;  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  I  should  not  like  to  leave  M.  de 
Chateaubriand,  who  would  be  quite  alone  in  Paris. 
Were  it  not  for  him  I  should  have  gone  with  you,  for 
I  am  convinced  that  since  it  would  have  given  me  so 
much  pleasure,  it  could  not  have  done  me  harm.  My 
letter  will  find  you,  I  think,  on  your  return  from  your 
visit  to  M.  Guizot ;  you  will  give  me  an  account  of  your 
journey,  you  know  how  fond  I  am  of  details.  I  hope 
you  will  bring  Juliette  as  well  as  her  sister ;  they  will 
keep  each  other  company ;  you  will  dine  with  Paul  or 
with  me,  and  we  will  try  to  make  you  pass  as  pleasantly 
as  we  can  the  little  time  you  will  be  able  to  give  us. 
Dupr^  is  to  sing  for  M.  de  Chateaubriand  at  Saint- 
Gratien,  at  M.  de  Custines';  we  shall  go  there  to  break- 
fast; the  house  is  charming.  If  the  day  did  not  depend 
upon  Dupr6, 1  should  have  appointed  one  when  I  could 
take  you  with  me ;  that  would  be  delightful.  Perhaps 
it  will  so  happen  naturally.  Adieu,  dear  child;  I 
embrace  you  heartily,  and  am  happy  in  the  thought 
that  I  shall  see  you  in  a  few  days.  Do  not  let  me  be 
forgotten  by  all  the  good  people  Avho  live  at  Saint- 
Eloi." 


TO  HER  NIECE.  151 

ON   HEK   KETUKN   FROM   EM8. 

"Pakis,  September  11,  1840.1 
"  It  is  very  true,  my  dear  child,  that  I  have  returned 
in  a  sad  state,  and  truly  regret  having  taken  such  a 
long,  expensive,  and  useless  journey.  How  very  kind 
M.  Lenormant  has  been ;  how  much  I  thank  him  for 
having  thought  of  coming  for  me ;  but  the  fact  is,  I  am 
so  weary  of  myself  that  I  dread,  above  all  things, 
making  others  weary  of  me ;  not  surely,  that  I  do  not 
rely  ujaon  the  attachment  of  my  friends,  but  to  cause 
them  only  sorrow,  to  contribute  in  no  respect  to  their 
enjoyment  of  life,  is  for  me  the  keenest  pain  that  I 
could  possibly  suffer.  I  have  thought  of  you  often  and 
very  lovingly  during  this  journey,  thought  of  our  chil- 
dren, made  a  thousand  plans  that  I  shall  never  realize. 
My  ill-health  interferes  with  every  thing.  Take  care 
of  your  health,  you  are  not  inclined  to  do  so  :  do  it  for 
the  sake  of  others.  I  impatiently  expect  you.  I  had 
day  before  yesterday  so  violent  an  attack  that  it  was 
followed  by  fever,  and  I  was  obliged  to  pass  the  whole 
day  in  bed ;  and,  imagine  my  vexation,  Mme.  de  Boigne 
had  invited  me  to  dine  with  her  in  company  with 
M.  de  Chateaubriand  that  very  day.  The  dinner  had 
to  be  given  up,  their  plans  deranged,  and  all  this  sud- 
denly with  little  circumstances  of  detail  that  were  most 

1  The  health  of  Mme.  Re'camier  was  visibly  declining.  She 
long  concealed  from  her  friends  her  constant  state  of  suffering  in 
order  not  to  alarm  them,  but  her  sight  was  becoming  impaired, 
and  at  the  time  she  was  ordered  to  Ems  for  the  waters,  it  was 
iMicertained  that  upon  both  eyes  a  cataract  was  forming. 


152       LETTERS  OF  MADAME  RECAMIER 

annoying.  In  fine,  my  dear  child,  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  tired  I  am  of  myself.  I  look  forward  to  your 
coming  to  give  me  a  little  courage.  One  happy  moment 
is  still  in  store  for  me,  —  the  one  when  I  shall  see  you 
again." 


"  September  28. 

"  "What  pleasant  memories  I  carried  away  from  Saint- 
Eloi !  How  happy  I  was  in  the  midst  of  you  all !  With 
what  impatience  I  look  forward  to  the  10th  of  October ! 
I  have  read  the  very  pleasant  article  of  the  pilgrimage 
to  Combourg  *  to  M.  de  Chateaubriand.  Juliette's  let- 
ter was  charming  ;  but  I  am  provoked  at  the  sixty  francs 
for  the  curtains;  and  is  it  true  that  they  are  horribly 
mean?  I  hope  she  is  mistaken.  I  have  seen  Mme. 
Guizot  and  the  young  people,  who  are  very  impatiently 
expecting  you.  M.  Guizot,  who  was  at  his  mother's, 
was  very  aiFable.  I  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity 
to  ask  him  for  a  little  contribution  in  aid  of  Mile.  Ro- 
bert :  with  the  most  gracious  alacrity  he  sent  me  a 
check  for  two  hundred  francs.  M.  Salvandy  came  to 
see  me  the  same  day;  he  was  still  radiant  from  the 
fortnight  he  had  passed  at  Eu.  I  was  very  much 
pleased  with  Mile.  Godefroid.  M.  Ballanche  is  quite 
well.  Poor  M.  Brifaut  suffers  much,  but  his  courage 
never  fails.     What  might  seem  frivolous  in  his  charac- 

1  By  M.  Lenormant.  Combourg  is  the  ancestral  home  of  tlie 
Chateaubriands.  Chateaubriand  the  author  passed  part  of  liis 
boyhood  there.  His  chamber  and  study  in  the  chateau  remain  the 
eame  as  when  he  occupied  tliem.  —  Tk. 


TO  HER  NIECE.  153 

ter  becomes  admirable  now  in  his  sad  situation.  Mme. 
and  Mile.  Deifaudis  come  every  evening ;  they  enter- 
tain me  with  music.     Camille's  voice  is  charming. 

"  This  is  a  very  long  letter  for  my  poor  eyes ;  I  am 
writing  as  though  with  white  ink,  without  seeing  what 
I  write.  Can  you  read  me  ?  Adieu,  my  Amelie ;  adieu, 
my  dear  little  Juliette ;  I  expect  a  letter  from  Paule. 
I  embrace  you  affectionately.  I  miss  you  and  expect 
you."  

"    "  Chatenat,  Wednesday,  April  10,  1841.1 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  influence  your  plans,  and  shorten 
a  stay  very  necessary,  perhaps,  to  the  health  of  your 
children,  but  for  myself,  dear  Amelie,  what  I  most  de- 
sire in  the  world  is  that  we  may  be  together ;  if  you 
return  on  the  16th,  I  will  be  in  Paris  on  the  14th;  if 
you  do  not  return  until  the  18th,  I  will  be  there  on  the 
16th,  to  arrange  our  establishment.  Reply  to  me  by 
return  of  mail  at  Mme.  de  Boigne's,  at  Chatenay,  near 
Antony.  I  find  Mme.  de  Boigne  charming;  I  am 
always  more  and  more  pleased  with  her  wit ;  but  noth- 
ing can  compare  with  the  pleasure  I  anticipate  in 
meeting  you  again  ;  I  feel  that  it  will  not  be,  perhaps, 
as  complete  for  you  as  for  me,  but  we  will  talk  of  the 
travellers;  we  shall  hear  from  them  directly  and  in- 
directly. In  fine,  I  hoj^e  that  with  me  by  your  side 
you  will  pass  these  months  of  absence  a  little  less  sadly 

1  M.  Lenormant  was  about  setting  out  for  Greece  and  Constan- 
tinople with  Messrs.  Prosper  M^rimee,  J.-J.  Ampere,  and  de 
Witte. 

7* 


154        LETTERS  OF  MADAME  R:ECAMIER 

than  if  we  had  not  hit  ui)on  this  plan  of  living  together. 
Adieu,  dear  Araelie ;  I  press  you  to  my  heart ;  I  em- 
brace your  dear  little  ones,  and  I  am  charmed,  delighted 
at  our  approaching  meeting." 


"  Maintenon,  August  13,  1842. 

"  You  will  receive  these  few  lines  at  Lyons ;  you  will 
again  see  that  H6tel  de  I'Europe  where  '  you  had^ 
indeed^  the  saddest  of  aunts.''  I  follow  you  to  Belley, 
to  the  very  spot  where  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time.  I 
see  again  the  meadow  before  your  grandmother's  house, 
where  I  first  conceived  the  idea  of  asking  your  parents 
to  give  you  up  to  me.  My  design  in  adopting  you  was 
to  provide  a  solace  for  your  uncle  in  his  old  age  ;  what 
I  thought  to  do  for  him,  I  have  done  for  myself;  it  was 
he  who  gave  you  to  me,  and  I  shall  always  bless  his 
memory  for  it. 

"  As  I  can  only  write  one  word,  I  charge  you,  above 
all  things,  to  take  care  of  your  health,  which  you  neglect 
altogether  too  much.  This  is  our  old  quarrel,  and  your 
only  fault.  I  beg  M.  Lenorraant  to  watch  over  you ; 
my  own  health  is  wretched.  The  Duke  and  Duchess 
de  Noailles  are  so  perfect  in  their  attentions  that  I 
scarcely  perceive  that  I  am  not  at  home.  M.  de  Cha- 
teaubriand will  arrive  on  the  20th  of  the  month.  I  do 
not  think  he  will  remain  more  than  a  day.  We  shall 
return  to  Paris  by  Saint- Vrain,  where  we  shall  find 
the  philosopher  Ballanche  between  '  Dragonneau '  and 
*  I'Ame  Exilee.'      I  do  not   know  what  will  become 


TO  HER  NIECE.  155 

of  me  afterward,  or  what  I  shall  do  with  the  month 
of  September.  Write  me  often  ;  reply  to  all  the  ques- 
tions I  should  like  to  ask  you.  Is  there  any  chance 
for  you  ?  Will  not  the  change  of  ministry  be  an 
obstacle?  I  know  nothing  yet  of  M.  Lenormant's  re- 
port to  the  Institute ;  he  has  written  me  a  very  kind 
letter,  for  which  I  thank  him.  M.  Brifaut  is  always 
kind  and  good;  he  will  leave  Maintenon  with  regret: 
he  is  in  his  element  here :  the  beauties  of  this  royal 
chateau,  the  memories  of  Louis  XIV.  and  Mme.  de 
Maintenon,  but,  above  all,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him- 
self between  the  Duchess  de  Noailles  and  the  Duchess 
de  Talleyrand  are  joys  of  which  he  never  tires.  I  am 
almost  glad  that  he  has  a  weakness  which  gives  him  so 
much  satisfaction.  They  would  have  been  pleased  to 
have  you  here ;  the  Duke  de  Noailles  hopes  for  it  next 
summer.  Adieu,  dear  Am^lie  ;  do  not  let  your  children 
forget  me.  I  do  not  count  for  much  in  their  lives; 
they  can  only  love  me  through  you ;  I  hope  that  it  will 
not  always  be  so.  Once  more,  adieu !  I  press  you  to 
ray  heart." 


BND   OP  PART   n. 


PART  III. 

JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE  AND  THE  ABBAYE- 

AUX-BOIS. 


TN  order  to  portray  completely  Mrae.  Recamier  as 
-*•  she  appeared  in  her  most  intimate  relations  of 
affection  and  friendship,  I  must  introduce  to  the  notice 
of  the  reader  J.-J.  Ampere,  the  young  friend  of  her 
riper  years  and  of  her  old  age,  whom  she  treated  as  a 
son  or  as  a  brother.  Pardon  me  if  I  dwell  with  pleas- 
ure upon  the  recollections  of  an  epoch  which  evoke, 
alas !  the  phantom  of  my  own  youth.  To  recall  the 
past,  is  it  not  the  sole  comfort  left  to  those  whom 
Providence  dooms  to  outlive  their  friends  ? 

The  numerous  letters  from  Mme.  Recamier  inter- 
spersed among  these  reminiscences  of  a  time  that  is  no 
more  will,  I  feel  sure,  impart  to  them  a  genuine  in- 
terest. 

Jean-Jacques  Ampere  was  the  only  cliild  of  Andr6- 
Marie  Ampere,  the  celebrated  natural  philosopher,  a 
man  of  learning  and  genius.  He  had  from  his  eai-liest 
youth  a  passionate  admiration  for  his  father,  in  whose 
fame  he  took  the  most  touching  and  legitimate  pride. 


158  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP&RE 

He  never  knew  his  motlier.^  She  died  when  he  waa 
nearly  three  years  old.  His  father,  called  to  Paris  in 
1803,"^  took  with  him  his  son  and  sister.  Mile.  Ampere 
was  a  pious  and  saintly  maiden  lady,  who  spent  her 
youth,  strength,  and  little  fortune  in  her  brothei''s  ser- 
vice. He,  it  is  true,  loved  her  tenderly,  but,  notwith- 
standing his  goodness  of  heart,  piety,  and  other  rare 
endowments,  he  never  succeeded  in  diffusing  around 
him  or  finding  for  himself  either  peace  or  happiness. 

Absorbed  in  the  sublime  combinations  of  science.  Am- 
pere, whose  powerful  intellect  could  discover  the  laws 
of  electro-dynamics,  was  ignorant,  or  at  least  unmindiul, 
of  the  simplest  affairs  of  every-day  life ;  consequently 
his  money  was  wasted,  his  house  ill-kept,  and  when, 
through  some  disagreeable  accident,  he  became  con- 
scious of  this  want  of  order,  he  would  fall  into  a  state 
of  utter  but  unavailing  despair.     His  nature  was  thor- 


1  The  "Journal  et  Correspondence  d'Andre-Marie  Ampere," 
published  in  Paris  in  1873,  supplies  some  interesting  facts  in  re- 
gard to  Ampere's  mother.  She  was  Julie  Carron,  of  Lyons,  and 
A  lovely  and  attractive  person.  This  journal,  wiiich  is  a  naive 
and  pathetic  story  of  the  courtship  and  brief  married  Life  of 
Andre  Ampere,  shows  him,  as  well  as  his  young  wife,  in  a  most 
engaging  light.  Her  early  death  was  an  irreparable  loss  to  her 
Kimily,  as  slie  had  the  practical  qualities  that  were  wanting  in  her 
fiusband,  and  which  his  sister  also  appears  to  have  lacked,  judging 
from  Mme.  Lenormant's  account  of  their  household.  Andre  Am- 
pere was  married  Aagust  6,  1799.  His  son  was  born  August  12th, 
1800,  and  his  wife  died  July  14th,  1803.  —  Tr. 

^  According  to  the  "Journal,"  Ampere  did  not  go  to  Paris 
until  November,  1804.  He  left  liis  child  with  his  mother  and 
sister  at  Polemieux,  near  Lyons.  —  Tk. 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  159 

oughly  upright,  kind,  and  affectionate,  his  intellect  of 
a  Iiigh  order;  and  he  had,  what  are  rarely  seen  together, 
remarkable  creative  genius,  and  great  aptitude  for  a 
variety  of  pursuits.  Weak  in  character,  and  easily 
troubled  tlirough  the  excitability  of  his  imagination, 
Ampere,  awkward  and  absent-minded,  displayed  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  world  the  simplicity  of  a  child, 
without,  however,  being  destitute  oi  finesse.  He  was 
interested  in  every  thing,  understood  every  thing,  was 
acquainted  with  all  that  was  going  on  in  the  intellectual 
world :  he  read  with  the  same  interest  the  most  ab- 
struse treatises  on  algebra  and  geometry  and  the  finest 
poetical  compositions ;  he  devoured  with  equal  avidity 
technical  works  on  physics,  natural  history,  metaphysi- 
cal speculations,  or  the  novel  that  came  in  his  way. 
What  was  truly  admirable  in  him  was  the  disinterested 
love  of  science,  which  made  hira  take  almost  as  much 
interest  in  the  discoveries  and  labors  of  other  men  as 
in  his  own.  A  devoted  Christian,  he  fulfilled  all  his 
religious  obligations  with  fervor  and  simplicity,  while 
he  was  at  the  same  time  perfectly  tolerant.  The 
European  reputation  of  the  illustrious  savant  and  his 
relations  with  all  the  eminent  scientific  men  of  his  day, 
attracted  to  his  house  celebrities  of  every  sort.  With 
the  most  kind-hearted  eagerness  he  would  press  upon 
them  his  hospitality.  But  his  guests  had  need  to  re- 
member the  respect  due  to  his  high  position  in  order 
to  overlook  the  inelegance  and  carelessness  of  his 
housekeeping.  By  a  second  marriage  with  a  person 
who  very  soon  separated  from  hira,  he  had  a  daughter, 


160  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

who  was  brought  up  at  home  under  the  care  of  hie 
excellent  sister. 

It  was  in  this  brilliantly  intellectual  atmosphere,  this 
respectable  but  ill-ordered  household,  that  J.-J.  Ampere 
grew  up  and  developed. 

Although  naturally  endowed  with  talents  of  a  high 
order,  the  young  Ampere  did  not  inherit  any  of  his 
father's  tastes  for  mathematics  and  the  physical  sciences. 
A  delicate  and  nervous  organization,  a  mobile  and  some- 
what dreamy  imagination,  a  restless  temper,  accom- 
panied with  great  sensibility,  a  loving  heart,  and  a  keen 
appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  were  indications 
rather  of  the  poetic  temperament,  and,  in  fact,  he  was 
visited  by  the  Muses  at  a  very  early  age.  To  be  a 
poet  was  not,  however,  his  true  vocation,  though  he 
himself  was  long  deceived  upon  this  point.  Though 
his  memory  was  very  retentive,  and  his  intelligence 
remarkably  quick,  J.-J.  Ampere  was  but  a  poor  scholar ; 
so  at  least  all  the  masters  say  who  directed  his  educa- 
tion. It  is  evident,  however,  that  his  academic  studies, 
irregular  and  fir  from  brilliant  as  they  seemed,  were 
not  wholly  without  fruit,  for  on  leaving  college  he  ob- 
tained the  first  prize  for  philosophy. 

The  happiest  and  most  fondly  remembered  hours  of 
Ampere's  childhood  and  youth  were  passed  with  the  de 
Jussieu  family.  The  two  households  were  very  intimate, 
and  met  constantly  either  in  the  beautiful  library  of  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes,  where  the  de  Jussieus'  herbarium 
was  kept,  or  at  the  charming  rural  retreat  of  Vanteuil, 
where  three  generations  of  illustrious  savants  furnished 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  161 

an  example  of  simple  manners  and  those  patriarchal 
virtues  which  so  well  accord  with  vast  erudition  and 
brilliant  intellectual  culture. 

In  this  privileged  circle  was  a  number  of  gay  and 
intelligent  young  people.  In  their  morning  walks  they 
studied  botany,  and  in  the  evening  they  acted  come- 
dies ;  they  also  wrote  verses,  and  J.-J.  Ampere  was  the 
liveliest  of  the  company,  to  whom  he  communicated  his 
own  high  spirits.  The  following  anecdote  is  one  of 
many  heard  from  his  own  lips:  During  one  of  the 
summer  vacations,  they  noticed  every  morning  that 
the  fine  fruit  in  the  garden  that  they  had  admired  the 
evening  before,  and  expected  to  find  ripe  the  next  day, 
had  disappeared.  As  it  had  not  been  gathered  by  the 
servants  of  the  family,  it  was  clear  that  the  garden  was 
robbed  at  night.  Adrien  de  Jussieu,  the  last  botanist 
of  this  noble  line  of  scientific  men,  a  man  of  exqui- 
site wit,  shrewd,  yet  most  kind-hearted,  was  about  to 
return  to  Paris.  But  before  starting  he  caused  it  to  be 
circulated  throughout  the  neighborhood  that  he  should 
bring  back  with  him  to  Vanteuil  a  watch-dog,  from 
the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  that  had  been  reared  in  the 
cage  of  a  most  ferocious  lion.  He  returned  in  the 
course  of  a  few  days  with  a  fine  large  Pyrenees  dog, 
the  mildest  and  most  inofiensive  of  creatures,  who  was 
thereupon  installed  in  the  barn-yard.  The  poor  dog 
would  not  have  harmed  or  bitten  any  one :  he  had  been 
chosen,  in  fact,  for  the  remarkable  gentleness  of  his  dis- 
position ;  but  his  reputation  for  ferocity,  presumed  to 
have  been  acquired  by  association  with  lions,  was  so 


162  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

thoroughly  established,  and  inspired  so  salutary  a  ter« 
ror,  that  never  afterward  did  any  thief  attempt  to  scale 
the  walls  or  strip  the  espaliers ;  and  whenever  the  harm- 
less creature  barked,  tlie  peasants  within  hearing  would 
say  with  respect,  "  That's  the  lions'  dog." 

The  young  Ampere  was  presented  by  Ballanche  to 
JMme.  Recamier  on  the  first  of  January,  1820.  Her  last 
reverse  of  fortune  had  occurred  the  year  before,  and  she 
had  already  been  sometime  settled  at  the  convent  of 
the  Abbaye-aux-Bois.  I  have  already,  in  the  "  Memoirs 
and  Correspondence,"  explained  the  motives  which  in- 
duced Mme.  Recamier  to  seek  this  asylum.  It  was  a 
courageous  and  self-denying  resolution,  which  sensible 
peojile  approved,  and  which  the  gay  world,  in  spite  of  its 
frivolity,  could  appreciate  and  respect.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  little  room  in  the  attic  of  the  Abbaye-aux- 
Bois  became  one  of  the  most  fashionable  centres  of  good 
society. 

The  circle  at  the  Abbaye  was  not  large  on  the  evening 
when  M.  Ampere  came  there  for  the  first  time  accom- 
panied by  his  son.  The  only  persons  present  besides 
Mme.  Recamier  and  her  niece  were  Dugas-Montbel,  the 
translator  of  Homer,  Lemontey,  Matthieu  de  Montmo- 
rency, M.  de  Genoude,  and  Ballanche.  The  wish  to  be 
agreeable  to  the  oldest  and  most  intimate  friend  of 
Ballanche  ensured  a  most  gracious  welcome  to  the 
great  physicist  and  his  son.  The  learned  mathema- 
tician was  very  well  pleased  with  his  evening ;  but  a 
far  deeper  impression  was  made  upon  the  young  poet, 
and  before  the  expiration  of  many  weeks,  J.-.T.  Ampere, 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  163 

captivated  and  enthralled,  had  become  a  daily  guest  at 
the  cell  in  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois.  We  were  so  accus- 
tomed to  see  every  one  yielding  to  this  sway,  and 
becoming  devotees  of  the  shrine  at  which  we  all  wor- 
shipped, that  nothing  seemed  to  us  more  natural. 
Rarely  did  any  resist  the  influence  of  that  all-potent 
charm  which  had  its  basis  in  the  truest  benevolence, 
the  most  painstaking  kindness,  and  which,  exerted  as 
it  was  by  a  lofty  and  delicate  soul,  appealed  to  all  that 
was  highest  and  best  in  each  one's  own  nature.^ 


•  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  with  whom  Ampere  was  connected  by  a 
bond  of  intellectual  sympathy  rather  than  of  friendship,  and  from 
whom  he  had  long  been  separated  by  his  travels,  lapse  of  time, 
and,  above  all,  difference  of  political  opinion,  has  devoted  a  charm- 
ing and  brilliant  article  to  the  memory  of  his  distinguished  comrade 
in  literature.  The  following  account  of  Ampere's  first  relations 
with  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois  is  borrowed  from  this  article :  — 

"  The  summer  or  autumn  following  this  introduction  was  passed 
by  Mme.  Ilecamier  in  the  Vallee-aux-Loups,  where  Ampere  also 
spent  a  few  weeks  in  company  of  his  friend  de  Jussieu,  who  had 
there  a  pied-a-terre.  During  this  happy,  rapturous  time,  his  im- 
agination yielded  itself  captive  to  all  the  charms  of  a  refined 
and  choice  companionship,  made  still  more  attractive  by  a  set- 
ting sun  of  divine  beauty.  Ampere  returned  to  Paris  about  a  fort- 
night earlier  than  Mme.  Recamier.  As  soon  as  he  heard  of  her 
return  he  presented  himself  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois  and  found  her 
alone.  She  talked  to  him  with  her  usual  grace  of  their  charming 
days,  their  drives  and  walks  in  the  valley,  of  the  cheerful  inter- 
course to  which  the  young  man's  animated  conversation  had  lent 
an  additional  charm.  Then,  touching  with  her  exquisite  tact  the 
tender  chord,  she  casually  intiuiated  that  there  had  perhaps  been 
opportunities  for  warmer  feelings,  that  had  they  stayed  there  much 
longer  she  would  have  been  afraid  at  least  lest  a  heart  inclined 
to  poetry  might  have  begun  to  weave  a  romance,  for  her  young 


164  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP  ME 

All  Mme.  Recamier's  friends,  also,  were  delighted 
with  the  young  Ampere.  Born  in  August,  1800,  he  was 
not  then  twenty  years  old;  and  his  face,  which  long 
remained  beardless,  was  almost  boyish  in  appearance. 
The  charm  of  his  conversation  was  already  very  remark- 
able, and  his  wonderful  attainments,  joined  to  his  abso- 
lute ignorance  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  made  him 
appear  very  piquant  and  original.  Extremely  fond  of 
discussion,  he  engaged  in  it  eagerly  with  everybody, 
and  on  all  subjects.  But  what  rendered  him  particu- 
larly dear  to  Mme.  Recamier,  and  established  such  close 
and  deep  sympathy  between  him  and  Ballanche,  was 
the  exquisite  —  I  might  almost  say,  feminine  —  delicacy 
of  his  soul,  the  generous  enthusiasm  of  his  aspirations, 
the  rectitude  of  all  his  instincts.  As  members  of  a 
secret  society  recognize  their  brethren  by  certain  signs, 
so  natures  of  a  high  moral  order  are  prompt  to  under- 
stand each  other,  and  open  their  ranks  to  those  who 
resemble  them.  If  Mme.  Recamier  was  kind  to  every- 
body, in  her  affections  she  was  exclusive ;  she  confined 
them  to  a  narrow  circle.  She  was  fond  of  saying  that 
there  was   "  a   certain    taste   in    perfect  friendship  to 


niece  was  then  with  her.  At  these  words  Ampere  could  not  re- 
Btrain  himself,  but  suddenly  bursting  out,  a<^itated  and  sobbing, 
'Ah!  it  is  not  for  her,'  he  cried,  and  fell  upon  his  knees.  Ills 
declaration  was  made,  his  confession  had  escaped  him ;  he  had, 
without  intending  it,  uttered  the  sacred  word,  and  lie  would  not 
take  it  back.  This  is  pure  Petrarch  or  pure  Dante,  as  you  will. 
From  that  moment  his  destiny  was  sealed.  Mme.  Kecamier  had 
only  to  go  on  fascinating  him,  calming  him  by  degrees,  but  never 
curing  him." 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  165 

which  commonplace  characters  could  not  attain."  But 
the  young  Ampere  had  a  superior  nature,  and,  hence- 
forward admitted  to  Mme.  Recamier's  fireside  on  the 
footing  of  a  son  or  a  brother,  he  was  for  thirty  years 
one  of  her  family. 

Ten  years  from  the  day  of  his  first  presentation  at 
the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  Ampere  reminded  Mme.  Re- 
camier  of  those  early  days  of  their  friendship  in  a  letter 
written  from  Hyeres,  whither  he  had  accompanied  his 
father,  who  was  already  sufiering  from  chronic  laryn- 
gitis, which  was  finally  the  cause  of  his  death. 

"  HTi;EES,  December  27, 1829. 

"  I  hope,  madame,  that  this  letter  will  reach  you  upon 
the  very  first  day  of  that  year  in  the  course  of  which  I 
shall  see  you  again.  I  am  not,  you  know,  a  great  lover 
of  forms,  but  the  first  day  of  the  year  is  an  epoch  for 
me,  the  return  of  which  I  cannot  see  unmoved.  It  was 
on  New  Year's  day  that  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time. 
That  moment  when  you  dawned  upon  me,  dressed  in 
white,  with  a  grace  of  which  till  then  I  had  no  con- 
ception, will  never  be  forgotten.  It  was  just  ten  years 
a^o.  Between  that  time  and  this  lies  all  my  youth  ; 
and,  at  every  joyous  or  painful  epoch  during  that  inter- 
val, you  reappear  to  me  with  all  the  charm  of  that  first 
day,  and  with  even  greater,  for  daily  intercourse  with 
you  has  revealed  to  me  other  reasons  for  loving  and 
admiring  you.  I  think  fondly  of  this  as  I  write  you 
from  my  little  cell.  I  say  to  myself  that,  when  you  read 
this  letter,  you  will  be  moved  a  little  as  you  think  of 


166  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

the  placid  and  pure  affection  that  has  lasted  ten  years, 
that  nothing  can  alter,  and  upon  which  we  can  count 
for  all  the  future. 

"  But  how  sad  it  is  to  be  writing  you  all  this,  two 
hundred  leagues  away,  and  to  think  that  I  shall  not, 
like  those  who  are  near  you,  come  to  dine  with  you 
to-morrow  enfamille!  I  hope  at  least  that,  when  you 
are  all  met  together,  you  will  think  of  one  who  might 
be  there  and  so  happy,  but  who  is  far  away  and 
sad. 

"I  find  myself  continually  counting  the  months,  the 
days,  trying  to  realize  what  a  month  is,  how  the  one 
just  gone  has  passed;  then  putting  all  together,  and 
endeavoring  to  get  an  idea  of  what  the  whole  will 
be.  I  am  very  impatient  to  be  able  to  feel  that  this 
year,  which  I  must  end  away  from  you,  is  among  the 
things  of  the  past :  it  seems  to  me  that,  when  I  have 
reached  the  one  that  is  to  bring  me  back,  I  shall  have 
made  a  great  advance.  But  how  many  days  yet,  how 
many  weeks !  Oh,  how  I  wish  it  were  spring !  They 
say  it  begins  here  in  the  month  of  Februai'y  :  that  will 
be  none  too  soon  for  me.  Will  you  not  send  me  for 
my  New  Year's  gift  a  few  of  those  lines  that  you  alone 
know  how  to  write  ?  It  will  take  you  only  a  moment, 
and  I,  I  live  long  on  such  moments.  My  father  coughs 
a  little,  and  I  see  by  that  how  much  the  slightest  acci- 
dent is  to  be  feared;  however,  he  is  already  better,  and 
if  he  will  be  prudent  all  will  go  well.  My  journey 
ought  to  result  in  good  to  compensate  me  for  being 
obliged  to  undertake  it.    Adieu,  adieu  ;  my  best  wishes 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOTS.  1G7 

for  your  health  and  happiness,  and  may  you  remember 
your  friend." 

This  letter,  revealing  with  so  much  grace  and  sim- 
plicity one  of  those  attachments  which  are  unchange- 
able because  they  are  pure,  has  made  rae  anticipate  a 
little.  Let  us  return,  therefore,  to  the  early  youth  of 
Ampere.  I  have  said  that  while  still  at  college  the 
demon  of  poetry  took  possession  of  the  young  student, 
in  whom  his  fither  would  have  preferred  a  passion  for 
mathematics.  But  the  number  of  those  who  immedi- 
ately, and  without  feeling  their  way,  find  their  true 
course,  is  small.  At  twenty,  J.-J.  Ampere,  besides 
some  miscellaneous  poems,  had  composed  a  tragedy, 
"Rosemonde,"  taking  his  plot  from  an  incident  in  the 
history  of  the  Lombards  in  Italy.  The  young  poet  had, 
to  a  certain  degree,  faith  in  his  ultimate  success,  and 
only  needed  encouragement  to  persevere.  "  Rose- 
monde  "  was  a  respectable  production  cast  in  the  classic 
mould.  It  was  read  before  the  committee  of  the 
"Theatre  Frangais,"  and  was  well  received.  But  at 
the  Abbaye-aux-Bois  it  was  thought  that  the  great 
talents  of  Ampere  might  be  better  employed  than  in 
writing  for  the  theatre.  When  his  excellent  father 
anxiously  said  to  Ballanche,  "My  good  friend,  do  you 
think  that  my  son  has.  genius  ? "  the  candid  philoso- 
pher, though  confident  that  his  friend's  son,  if  he  had 
not  the  genius  of  Corneille  or  of  Shakspeare,  had  talent 
enough  to  insure  him  a  brilliant  future,  was  very  care* 
ful  not  to  give  an  affirmative  reply. 


168  JEAN-,TACQUES  AMPERE 

Up  to  the  year  1823,  with  the  exception  of  a  pedes- 
trian tour  in  Switzerland,  in  company  with  his  dear 
friend  Adrien  de  Jussieu,  J.-J.  Ampere  had  scarcely 
quitted  Paris  except  to  go  to  Vanteuil,  and,  after  he 
ha  3  become  one  of  the  family  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois, 
to  accompany  Mme.  Recamier  either  to  the  Vallee-aux- 
Loups  or  to  Saint-Germain.  It  is  rather  singular  that 
a  very  decided  taste  for  the  study  of  foreign  languages 
and  literatures  did  not  sooner  arouse  the  instinct  of 
the  tourist  in  the  man  whose  passion  for  travelling  was 
one  day  to  lead  him  to  so  many  different  points  of  the 
globe,  but,  as  I  have  before  said,  his  true  vocation  was 
not  yet  clear  to  him.  Unforeseen  circumstances  led  to 
his  first  journey. 

Although  Mme.  Recamier,  both  from  taste  and  tem- 
perament, kept  aloof  from  all  political  intrigues,  it  so 
happened  that  a  change  of  ministry,  which  occurred 
toward  the  end  of  the  year  1822,  disturbed  the  quiet 
of  her  retreat.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  became  minister 
of  foreign  affairs  in  the  place  of  Matthieu  de  Montmo- 
rency. The  divergence  of  their  political  views,  and 
the  consequent  antagonism  between  two  friends  who 
held  so  large  a  place  in  the  heart  of  Mme.  R6camier, 
caused  her  the  greatest  pain ;  and,  in  spite  of  her  efforts 
to  make  the  situation  less  difiicult,  she  suffered  from  it 
cruelly. 

In  the  summer  of  the  same  year,  1823,  her  niece, 
whom  she  treated  and  loved  as  a  daughter,  fell  danger- 
ously ill ;  when  she  became  convalescent,  it  was  decided 
by  the  physicians  that  she  ought  not  to  pass  the  winter 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE- A  UX-BOIS.  169 

in  Paris.  This  alone,  no  doubt,  would  have  determined 
Mme.  Recamier  to  go  to  Italy,  but  there  was  still 
another  motive  for  departure :  wounded  in  her  feelings, 
grieved  and  surprised  to  find  how  intoxicated  by  eleva- 
tion to  power  the  illustrious  writer  had  become  who 
was  the  object  of  her  deep  admiration,  she  thought,  and 
rightly,  that  a  temporary  absence  on  her  part,  would 
restore  tranquillity  to  all  hearts.  Accordingly,  Mme. 
Recamier  set  out  for  Rome  November  2d,  1823 ;  the 
faithful  Ballanche  unhesitatingly  accompanied  her,  and 
the  young  Ampere,  having  made  his  father  understand 
the  help  such  a  journey  would  be  to  him  in  his  studies, 
received  permission  to  join  the  little  party. 

Mme.  Recamier  and  her  devoted  friends  gave  a 
month  to  the  journey  from  Paris  to  Rome.  After 
reaching  Turin  they  travelled  by  short  stages  with 
hired  horses,  going  from  city  to  city ;  making  some  stay 
in  Florence,  exploring  ancient  monuments,  churches, 
museums,  libraries.  During  the  mid-day  halt,  as  well 
as  in  the  evening,  they  talked  of  what  they  had  seen, 
they  read  aloud  to  each  other,  or  Ballanche  and  his 
young  friend  earnestly  discussed  questions  of  history  and 
philosophy.  Mme.  Recamier  had  the  wonderful  faculty 
of  instantly  transforming  the  meanest  chamber  of  a 
wayside  inn  and  giving  it  an  air  of  elegance :  a  cloth 
thrown  over  a  table,  books  and  flowers  arranged  upon 
it,  a  muslin  coverlet  spread  upon  the  bed,  and  her  own 
distinguished  air  and  inimitable  grace,  transported  you 
as  by  enchantment  into  the  realm  of  poetry.  Ballanche 
and  Ampere  projected  a  "Guide  for  the  Traveller  in 
8 


170  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

Italy,"  which  was  to  meet  every  want  and  satisfy  every 
curiosity :  the  arts,  history,  politics,  rural  economy, 
manners,  —  every  thing  was  to  be  found  in  it,  not 
forgetting  information  respecting  the  best  inns  and 
the  price  of  provisions.  One  day,  when  they  were 
complacently  talking  over  this  comprehensive  plan, 
Ballanche,  who  was  sitting  by  the  fire,  jumped  up,  ex- 
claiming, "Yes,  for  that  work, just  as  it  is,  I  would  not 
take  a  hundred  thousand  crowns ! "  A  general  burst 
of  laughter  silenced  Ballanche's  magniloquence,  and  the 
wonderful  guide-book  is  yet  to  be  written.  But  what 
would  the  impatient  generations  of  our  day  think  of 
such  a  mode  of  travelling?  A  month  seems  to  them 
more  than  sufficient  to  get  a  complete  idea  of  Rome, 
Florence,  and  Naples.  Since  the  invention  of  steam 
and  of  railways,  people  think  they  can  acquire  a  knowl- 
edge of  different  countries  by  merely  passing  through 
them:  they  forget  that  to  know  a  country  we  must 
live  in  it. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  what  a  series  of  delights  a 
sojourn  in  Rome  oflfered  to  young  Ampere.  To  apply 
his  mind  to  the  study  of  objects  so  new  to  him  and  so 
interesting;  to  enjoy,  \vith  the  fresh  heart  of  a  youth 
of  twenty-three,  the  masterpieces  of  art,  a  beautiful 
sky,  fine  scenery,  and  all  this  in  company  with  an  in- 
comparable woman  whom  he  idolized,  to  be  admitted 
through  her  to  the  most  distinguished  society  of  all 
countries,  to  find  at  Rome  as  ambassador  of  France  a 
Montmorency,  who  received  him  with  fatherly  kind- 
ness, was,  indeed,  an  accumulation  of  delights.     The 


i^--- 


HORTENSE  EUGENIE  DE  BKAUHARNAIS  (QUEEN  HORTENSE) 

from  an  old  portrait 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  171 

impression  made  upon  Ampere  was  lasting :  the  mag- 
netic influence  which  so  continually  drew  him  back  to 
the  Eternal  City,  and  converted  him  almost  into  a 
Koman,  dates  certainly  from  this  happy  epoch. 

I  must  not  forget  to  mention  in  this  connection  an 
important  episode  of  the  sojourn  at  Rome.  Queen 
Hortense  and  her  two  sons  passed  the  winter  of  1824 
in  that  city,  once  the  asylum  of  all  fallen  greatness,  and 
where  the  Bonaparte  family  were  gathered  about  the 
mother  of  Napoleon.  Mme.  Recaraier  met  frequently 
the  Duchess  de  Saint-Leu;  these  two  women  —  both 
the  sport  of  destiny,  though  in  different  ways  —  were 
delighted  to  see  each  other  again.  They  made  appoint- 
ments to  meet,  sometimes  in  the  Coliseum,  sometimes 
on  the  Campagna,  beyond  the  church  of  St.  John 
Lateran,  and  frequently  at  some  villa.  During  these 
promenades  the  two  were  wont  to  hold  long  conversa- 
tions apart,  and  Ballanche  and  Ampere  meanwhile 
passed  the  time  with  Prince  Napoleon,  the  Queen's 
eldest  son  (her  younger  son.  Prince  Louis,  who  was 
still  a  mere  youth,  rarely  made  one  of  the  party). 
The  exiled  heir  of  Napoleon  was  a  man  of  very  gen- 
erous impulses ;  chafing  under  the  inaction  to  which  he 
was  condemned  by  fate,  he  thought  of  taking  part  in 
the  struggle  for  Greek  independence,  and  joining  the 
ranks  of  the  Philhellenists.  He  talked  of  this  project 
with  Mme.  Recamier's  friends,  and  questioned  them 
about  France  and  the  state  of  public  opinion  there, 
choosing  rather  Ampere  for  his  confidant  as  being 
nearer  his  own  age.    He  asked  him  if  he  knew  M.  Moc- 


172  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

quartl.^  That  name  which  has  since  acquired  great  noto- 
riety was  then  wholly  unknown,  at  least  to  these  gen- 
tlemen; and  they  were  obliged  to  confess,  to  the  great 
astonishment  of  the  Prince,  that  they  had  never  heard 
of  him.  To  those  who  know  the  attitude  of  opposition 
maintained  by  Ampere  under  the  second  Empire,  there 
is  something  very  piquant  in  these  transient  relations 
with  the  Imperial  family. 

After  the  festivities  of  Easter,  the  Holy  Sacrament 
and  St.  Peter,  the  little  French  colony,  with  Mme.  R^- 
camier  for  its  centre,  repaired  to  Naples,  whence  they 
visited  Paestum,  Pompeii,  and  Ilerculaneum.  Mme. 
Recamier  had  detennined  to  pass  a  second  winter  in 
Italy;  meanwhile  Ampere's  letters  from  Paris  were 
growing  more  and  more  sad:  his  father  found  his 
absence  long  and  painful ;  he  did  not  recall  his  son, 
whose  tour  he  had  sanctioned,  but  he  was  so  unhappy 
in  his  loneliness,  that  Mme.  Recamier  and  Ballanche 
decided  that  their  young  friend  must  return  to  France. 
Accordingly,  Ampere  sadly  tore  himself  away  from  his 
studies  and  the  society  which  had  now  become,  as  it 
were,  a  necessity  to  him.  He  returned  home  by  way 
of  Bologna,  Padua,  Venice,  and  Milan.  At  each  of 
these  stopping-places  he  found  words  of  comfort  and 
encouragement  from  his  friends. 

In  reply  to  one  of  his  letters,  Mme.  Recamier  wrote 
to  him :  — 

1  Afterward  private  secretary  of  Napoleon  III.  —  Tr. 


AND   THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  173 

"Naples,  Thursday,  Nov.  16,  1824. 
"  I  have  just  received  your  second  letter  from  Ter- 
racina,  which  touches  me  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 
I  think  of  you,  I  follow  you  on  your  lonely  route  ;  I 
see  you,  like  the  poor  wandering  pigeon :  — 

"  '  Mon  frere  a-t-il  tout  ce  qu'il  veut, 
Bon  souper,  bon  gite  et  le  reste  1 ' 

"  I  am  obliged  to  think  of  your  excellent  father,  in 
order  not  to  consider  your  departure  absurd. 

"  I  am  delighted  with  what  you  are  reading.  Do 
you  not  work  at  all  during  this  long  journey?  You 
promised  me  an  ode  upon  Venice. 

"  I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  Naples. 
They  are  not  willing  to  let  me  go :  I  am  easily  per- 
suaded ;  all  places  are  alike  to  me.  I  hope,  however, 
that  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  returning  to  Paris,  but  it 
Avill  be  a  mixed  pleasure.  I  have  just  been  walking  in 
the  Margravine's  villa ;  ^  the  weather  was  delightful,  the 
air  soft  and  full  of  perftime.  I  was  alone.  I  stayed  there 
a  long  time,  my  heart  oppi-essed  by  many  memories. 

"  Adieu,  until  Saturday." 


TO   J.-J.    AMPi;RE. 

"Naples,  November  26. 
"  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  write  you  by  the  last 
post.     M.  Ballanche  undei'took  that  duty.     Only  the 

1  A  charming  villa  on  Moimt  Posilipo,  now  belonging,  if  I  mis* 
take  not,  to  Mrs.  Augustus  Craven. 


174  JEA  N-JA  CQ  UES  A  MPS  RE 

fear  lest  you  might  be  uneasy  gives  nie  strength  for  it 
to-day.  I  write  you  this  little  note  in  my  bed.  I  have 
just  received  a  letter  from  M.  Givre  ^  and  one  from  you. 
I  am  impatient  to  reply  to  you,  but  I  am  so  weak  that 
I  have  not  the  courage  to  attempt  it.  I  have  been  five 
days  in  bed  with  a  sort  of  fever,  and  a  strange  uncom- 
fortable feeling.  M.  Ballanche,  fearing  to  alarm  you, 
did  not  probably  tell  you  of  this ;  but  I  prefer  that  you 
should  be  alarmed  on  the  score  of  my  health  rather 
than  my  friendship.  All  the  details  you  give  me  of 
your  journey  revive  my  regrets.  IIow  sad  to  think 
that  you  are  so  solitary  when  it  would  have  been  so 
pleasant  for  us  all  to  travel  the  same  road  together ! 
«  Adieu." 


"  Rome,  December  3,  1824. 

"  You  wrote  me  from  Venice  the  most  affecting,  the 
kindest,  the  wittiest  letter  possible. 

"I  do  not  know  why  I  should  go  to  Venice:  you 
give  me  so  vivid  and  animated  a  description  of  it  that 
I  have  already  seen  it  all.  I  have  been  there  with  you, 
and  I  doubt  whether  the  objects  themselves  would 
please  me  as  much  as  your  description  of  them. 

"You  know  now  why  I  did  not  write:  my  health  is 
much  better  since  my  return  to  Rome,  and  hencefor- 
ward you  shall  have  a  few  lines  by  every  post ;  but  the 
mail  goes  only  twice  a  week,  Saturday  and  Thursday. 
Why  did  you   not  send  me  the  verses  you  wrote  in 

1  M.  Desmousseaux  de  Givre,  secretary  of  legation  at  Home. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  175 

Venice  ?  They  are  mine :  I  wish  to  put  them  with  the 
others  you  left  with  me.  When  I  return  I  will  bring 
them  with  me,  together  with  your  letters,  and  we  will 
read  them  all  over  again  in  the  little  cell." 

With  a  heart  full  of  regrets  Ampere  arrived  home 
towai-d  the  end  of  November.  Great  was  the  joy  over 
the  return  of  the  child  whose  presence  was  so  longed 
for,  and  the  thought  of  his  father's  happiness  partly 
compensated  our  traveller  for  the  bitter  sacrifice  he  had 
made.  However,  as  they  were  leaving  the  breakfast- 
table  one  morning,  shortly  after  his  arrival.  Ampere, 
the  father,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word  during  the 
meal,  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  he  looked  at  his  son,  "  It 
is  strange,  Jean-Jacques,  I  thought  it  would  give  me 
more  pleasure  to  see  you  again."  —  "Ah,"  murmured 
the  son,  sadly,  "  tlien  why  did  you  not  let  me  stay  at 
Naples  ?  " 

While  looking  forward  to  a  return  to  the  pleasant 
intercourse  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  Ampere  kept  up 
with  his  friends  an  active  correspondence.  He  was 
engaged  upon  another  tragedy,  "  La  Juive,"  a  Spanish 
subject,  whose  plot  he  had  thought  out  during  his 
journey.  In  his  letters  he  describes  his  life,  and  talks 
of  his  labors  and  his  ennui ;  in  return  they  kept  him 
informed  of  the  doings  of  the  little  company  of  friends 
who  had  now  returned  to  Rome  to  be  present  at  the 
opening  of  the  Jubilee.  It  is  Mme.  Recamier  again 
who  replies  to  him. 


176  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPME 

"  Rome,  December  20,  1824. 
"  How  kind  you  are  to  write  with  so  much  punctu- 
ality !  Your  letters  are  charming.  It  is  like  talking 
with  you ;  but  this  momentary  illusion  makes  me  only 
the  more  regret  your  absence.  The  ever-present  chann, 
the  pleasant  intimacy,  the  wit,  so  si^arkling  and  so 
varied,  which  gave  life  to  all  our  intercourse,  —  this  is 
what  we  daily  miss,  and  I  take  comfort  in  seeing  these 
regrets  shared  by  all  who  know  you.  The  holy  year 
is  not  what  I  imagined  it  to  be.  About  thirty  male 
and  ten  or  twelve  female  pilgrims  are  all  we  have  seen 
so  far.  We  went  yesterday  to  see  the  female  pilgrims 
eat  their  supper;  they  were  waited  upon  by  the 
Princess  di  Lucca,  and  all  the  great  Roman  ladies,  and 
the  Princess  Doria,  beautiful  as  an  angel.  All  these 
ladies,  in  black  gowns  and  white  aprons,  performed  the 
offices  of  servants ;  they  were  washing  the  feet  of  the 
poor  pilgrims  when  we  arrived.  Would  you  believe  it? 
I  was  not  the  least  affected  by  this  scene,  —  I,  whose 
imagination  is  so  easily  moved  by  things  of  that  sort. 
These  poor  women  seemed  to  me  so  embarrassed  at 
being  made  a  spectacle  of;  the  aid  given  them,  which 
is  limited  to  a  hospitality  of  three  days,  seemed  so 
pitiful  after  such  pompous  preparations,  —  that  I  found 
myself  almost  acquiescing  in  M.  Lemontey's  philosophy; 
and  I  saw,  in  the  passing  and  theatrical  self-abasement 
of  these  great  ladies,  only  a  new  means  of  self-glorifica- 
tion, another  occasion  for  pride,  though  doubtless  they 
were  themselves  not  conscious  of  it.  But,  in  spite  of 
the  ease  with  which  I  enter  into  the  impressions  of 


AND   THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  177 

Others,  I  could  not  lend  myself  to  this  illusion.  Adieu, 
adieu.  What  are  you  doing?  Are  you  working  upon 
"  La  Juive  "  ?  Remember  me  to  your  father ;  you  know- 
how  much  I  am  attached  to  him.  Say  to  M.  Delecluze 
that  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  write  to  him  as  long 
as  I  can  have  you  to  speak  for  me.  We  look  forward 
with  pleasure  to  seeing  him  in  Paris." 

In  another    note   Mme.  Recamier    gently  reproves 
Ampere  for  allowing  himself  to  become  despondent:  — 

"  Rome,  January  17,  1825, 
"  Your  last  letter  caused  me  much  pain.  I  had  to 
say  to  myself  that  it  was  written  under  the  influence 
of  some  transient  impression.  I  will  not  make  your 
blessings  weai'isome  to  you  by  recounting  all  the  rea- 
sons you  have  for  being  satisfied  with  yourself  and 
your  lot.  But  in  truth  you  are  an  ingrate,  and  you 
ought  every  day  to  thank  God  for  all  he  has  given  you. 
"  I  still  expect  to  leave  in  March.  I  dream  of  a  sum- 
mer in  France,  and  then  a  return  to  Italy.  I  pass  my 
life  in  forming  projects;  it  is  the  malady  of  those  who 
are  not  content  with  their  fate.  You  are  included  in 
all  my  plans ;  it  cannot  be  otherwise.  I  hope  to  find  on 
my  return  some  fine  verses,  and  promise  myself  the 
pleasure  of  listening  to  them  in  the  little  cell." 


"  Saturday,  14. 
"  The  Duke  de  Laval  sends  me  two  letters  from  you 
that  aiTived  at  the  same  time.   He  says :  '  Here  are  the 
8*  I. 


178  JEAN-JA  CQ UES  AMPERE 

billets-doux  they  write  to  you  under  cover  of  M.  Bal- 
lanche;  he  and  I  are  in  a  pretty  business.'  —  Your 
letters  fill  me  with  remorse  for  not  writing  oftener,  but 
then  we  shall  soon  meet  again.  We  leave  in  March. 
M.  Recamier,  as  I  have  confided  to  you,  has  met  with 
new  losses.  I  shall  have  many  vexations  to  encounter 
upon  my  arrival,  —  jDrosaic  troubles  which  are  so  hard 
for  me  to  bear.  I  need  not  tell  you  to  keep  this  secret ; 
I  know  your  discretion,  and  M.  Recamier  is  particularly 
anxious  to  conceal  his  situation.  Apart  from  its  festivals, 
the  holy  year  is  much  like  all  other  years ;  all  the  stran- 
gers have  fled ;  we  are  alone,  which  suits  me  exactly. 
Guerin  has  been  very  ill,  but  is  now  out  of  danger;  his 
situation  excited  lively  and  general  interest.  Adieu. 
Write  to  me  always  punctually;  your  letters  interest 
me  greatly.  What  has  become  of  Mile.  Mars  ?  Remem- 
ber us  to  M.  Montbel  and  M.  Delecluze.  We  often  talk 
of  him.  We  have  needed  you  both  very  much  to  put 
life  into  our  sad  eveninsfs. 

"  I  walk  daily  in  the  avenue  Santa-Croce  in  Geru- 
salemme,  where  we  used  to  go  together.  Do  you  recol- 
lect the  bright  sky,  the  ruins,  the  ground  all  covered 
with  flowers,  our  pleasant  and  confidential  talks? 

"  M.  Ballanche  and  all  your  friends  in  Rome  desire 
to  be  remembered  to  you.  I  have  heard  of  you  through 
Duke  Matthieu,  who  was  delighted  to  see  you.  I  have 
received  a  very  sad,  desponding  letter  from  M.  de 
Chateaubriand.  So  you  have  heard  of  my  new  passion 
for  Mme.  Swetchine?  She  is  to  take  the  apartment 
which  I  give  up  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois.     She  is  very 


AND   THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  179 

kind  and  bright ;  she  likes  you  already,  and  you  will  bo 
much  pleased  with  her," 

Mme.  Recamier  left  Rome  April  20,  1825,  and  on  her 
way  announced  to  M.  Ampere  the  return  of  the  little 
colony  so  impatiently  expected :  — 

"  FoLiGNO,  April  23d. 

"It  is  three  days  since  we  set  out  on  our  journey 
homeward,  and  each  moment  brings  us  nearer  you.  1 
intended  to  write  you  on  leaving  Rome,  but  I  was  so 
interrupted  I  could  not  find  a  moment's  opportunity. 
Am^lie  has  been  very  ill;  she  is  already  better.  I 
am  writing  you  these  lines  from  Foligno ;  the  date,  I 
trust,  will  give  you  pleasure.  In  a  few  weeks  we  shall 
be  all  together  again  in  the  little  cell  talking  over  our 
travels.  I  have  a  secret  ^  to  tell  you  that  will  interest 
you,  and  in  which  you  will  play  an  extremely  pretty 
part.  Adieu,  adieu !  I  shall  write  to  you  from  Bo- 
logna and  Venice.  We  shall  not  go  to  Florence  ;  but 
I  have  sent  for  my  letters  which,  will  be  forwarded  to 
Bolosrna." 


'O* 


At  the  time  of  Mme.  Recamier's  return  to  the  Abbaye- 
aux-Bois,  political  events  had  brought  about  great 
changes  in  the  respective  situations  of  her  friends.  M. 
de  Chateaubriand,  in  his  turn,  had  been  dismissed  from 
the  ministry,  and  was  waging  against  M.  de  Villele 


1  Her  niece  Amelie's  engagement  to  M.  Charles  Lenormant. 
It  was  Ampere  who  introduced  tlie  latter  to  Mme.  Recamier  in 
Naples. 


180  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

that  formidable  opposition  which,  without  his  intending 
it,  was  to  result  in  the  overthrow  of  the  elder  branch 
of  the  house  of  Bourbon.  Matthieu  de  Montmorency, 
who  was  now  a  member  of  the  French  Academy, 
had  been  appointed  governor  to  the  Duke  de  Bor- 
deaux. 

In  Mme.  Recamier's  family  circle  events  of  no  less 
importance  took  place.  A  few  months  after  her  return 
she  had  the  great  pleasure  of  seeing  her  niece  united  in 
marriage  with  Charles  Lenormant.  Nearly  at  the  same 
time  M.  de  Montmorency,  the  dear  and  saintly  friend 
of  her  youth,  was  suddenly  snatched  away  from  her  by 
the  rupture  of  an  aneurism. 

It  was  in  1825  that  Mme.  Recamier  presented  J.-J. 
Ampere  to  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who  directly  con- 
ceived a  gi'eat  liking  for  this  young  man,  to  Avhom  he 
became  year  by  year  more  attached.  He  delighted  in 
Ampere's  activity  of  mind,  and  admired  in  him  an  in- 
dependence and  elevation  of  character  in  symjDathy 
with  his  own  nature.^ 

About  this  period,  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  for 
the  first  and  only  time,  a  marriage  was  proposed  for 
Ampere.  The  lady  was  Mile.  Cuvier,  whose  father,  the 
naturalist,  had  treated  him  with  the  greatest  cordiality. 
At  that  time  all  Europe  was  flocking  to  the  Jardin  du 


J  According  to  Sainte-Beuve,  this  liking  was  by  no  means  re- 
ciprocal. Ampere  grew  very  tired  of  Chateaubriand  ;  and  once, 
during  an  absence  of  Mme.  Kdcamier,  had  actually  the  temerity 
to  publish  an  article  in  tlie  "  Globe  "  reflecting  sharply,  though  in- 
directly, on  the  great  man.  —  Ta. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  181 

Roi,  and  crowding  the  beautiful  galleries  where  Cuvier's 
collections  were  displayed.  In  the  midst  of  the  dis- 
tinguished assembly,  seated  by  her  mother's  side,  could 
be  seen  a  young  girl  who,  though  not  striking  in  ap- 
pearance, had  a  most  kindly  and  intelligent  expression. 
A  modest  reserve  did  not  prevent  her  being  very  much 
interested  in  the  conversation,  nor  even  from  taking 
part  in  it,  and  giving  proof  of  as  much  wit  as  knowl- 
edge. This  was  Clementine,  Cuvier's  only  child,  an 
ansrelic  creature,  in  whom  the  famous  academician  was 
pleased  to  see  the  reflex  of  some  of  the  rai-est  of  his 
own  intellectual  gifts.  She  showed  for  young  Ampere 
a  scarcely  perceptible  shade  of  preference,  which  be- 
trayed itself  only  by  her  greater  readiness  to  address 
to  him  rather  than  to  another  a  conversation  which 
turned  exclusively  upon  literature  and  science.  On  his 
part,  he  felt  himself  filled  with  tender  respect  for  the 
young  girl ;  and  the  feeling  she  awakened  in  him  might 
easily  have  ripened  into  love,  had  he  not  feared  her 
father's  domineering  spirit.  He  felt  that  no  one  could 
become  Cuvier's  son-in-law  without  submitting  his  neck 
to  a  yoke,  —  a  condition  thoroughly  distasteful  to  a 
man  of  Ampere's  essentially  independent  character. 
To  his  father,  who  was  a  friend  of  Cuvier,  the  match 
seemed  in  every  respect  desirable  ;  he  could  not  under- 
stand his  son's  hesitation,  and  consequently  this  differ- 
ence of  opinion  was  a  source  of  vexation  and  anxiety 
to  both. 

To  escape  his  father's  importunities,  and  also  to  ex- 
amine calmly  his  own  feelings,  J.-J.  Ampere  left  Paria 


182  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

for  Vanteuil,  whither  Mine.  Recamier,  the  confidant  of 
his  perplexities,  wrote  to  him  :  — 

"  Tuesday,  23d. 

"I  have  received  your  little  note:  I  am  somewhat 
better,  but  still  very  sad.  Every  evening  we  see  JM. 
Alexis  de  Jussieu.  He  is  very  agreeable,  and  is  sin- 
cerely attached  to  you.  I  still  purpose  leaving  for  the 
poor  little  valley  on  the  first  of  August.  M.  and  Mme. 
Lenormant  will  not  go  until  a  few  days  later.  What 
eflTect  has  solitude  upon  your  feelings  ?  Do  you  see  a 
little  more  clearly  into  your  heart  ?  Adieu  !  Do  not 
distress  yourself,  and  return." 

Providence  did  not  long  permit  the  illustrious  savant 
to  cherish  this  hope  so  dear  to  his  heart.  In  less  than 
two  years,  Mile.  Cuvier,  cut  oflf  by  death,  bequeathed  to 
her  friends  and  all  who  had  ever  met  her  the  memory 
of  a  truly  angelic  being.^ 

This  matrimonial  scheme,  of  which  the  Cuvier  family 
knew  nothing,  did  not  occupy  the  mind  of  the  young 
scholar  to  the  exclusion  of  his  favorite  intellectual  pui-- 
suits.  Scandinavian  poetry  having  excited  his  curiosity, 
he  resolved  to  devote  himself  wholly  to  the  study  of 
German  and  the  languages  of  the  North.  Accordingly, 
he  left  Paris  in  the  autumn  of  1826  for  Bonn,  where 
he  intended  to  pass  the  winter. 


1  Mile.  Cuvier  died  of  consumption,  September  28,  1827.  She 
was,  at  the  time  of  her  death,  engaged  to  be  naarried,  by  her  own 
choice,  to  a  M.  Duparquet.  —  Tb. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  183 

At  that  time,  Niebuhr  had  brought  the  university  of 
this  city  into  great  repute.  The  first  volume  of  his 
Roman  history  had  ah-eady  been  published  (it  was  not 
translated  into  French),  and  our  neighbors  had  been 
stimulated  to  great  activity  in  historical  studies  by  the 
noN'elty  and  happy  audacity  of  its  author's  researches. 
Other  professors  besides  the  famous  historian  of  Rome 
contributed  to  the  fame  of  the  Rhenish  University. 
William  Schlegel,  the  purely  literary  and  French  form 
of  whose  lectures  offended  pure  Teutons  and  provoked 
vehement  attacks,  was  then  establishing  the  first  school 
of  instruction  in  the  Sanscrit  language  and  literature : 
Welcker,  now  the  sole  survivor  of  the  famous  period 
of  the  University  of  Bonn,  was  explaining  the  classic 
writers  of  Greece.  The  latter  was  one  of  the  first  ex- 
amples of  that  happy  union  of  two  orders  of  erudition, 
the  literary  and  the  archaeological,  which  has  been  so 
fertile  in  results.  He  infused  new  life,  so  to  speak, 
into  philology  by  his  method  of  comparing  the  writ- 
inofs  of  the  ancients  with  the  monuments  of  ancient 
art. 

Some  people  were  astonished  to  see  J.-J.  Ampere  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  abandoning  the  purely  literary 
questions  which  hitherto  had  chiefly  occupied  him,  to 
write  a  Roman  history.  But  for  him  it  was  only  a  return 
to  the  studies  of  his  youth  :  he  was  plunging  anew  into 
memories  of  that  University  of  Bonn  which  had  exer- 
cised so  great  an  influence  upon  his  life.  In  the  plan 
of  "  L'Histoire  Romaine  a  Rome,"  and  in  his  manner  of 
explaining   the  gi-eat   features   in   the  annals   of  this 


184  JEA  N-JA  CQ  UES  A  MP&RE 

sovereign  people,  we  clearly  recognize  the  pupil  of  Nie- 
buhr ;  wliile  in  that  large  portion  of  the  work  devoted 
to  monuments  of  antiquity  we  detect  the  influence  of 
the  teachings  of  Welcker. 

Two  letters  exchanged  between  Charles  Lenormant 
and  Ampere  about  this  time  will  give  the  best  idea  of 
the  interest  felt  by  all  the  inmates  of  the  Abbaye-aux- 
Bois  in  the  young  student,  and  the  nature  of  the 
studies  then  claiming  his  time  and  attention:  — 

CH.    LENORMANT    TO    J.-J.    AMPilRE. 

"  Pakis,  Shrove  Sunday. 
"  I  foresee  that  upon  your  return  to  Paris  nobody 
will  be  able  to  contend  with  you  on  any  subject.  I 
confess  that  I  consider  it  a  great  privilege  to  be  able 
to  draw  from  original  sources  as  you  are  doing.  The 
Germans,  if  they  had  ever  so  little  foresight,  would  do 
well  to  close  them  against  you,  for  workers  like  you 
are  great  rogues.  We  frequently  talk  over  at  the 
Abbaye  the  great  step  you  have  taken,  and  we  are  all 
enchanted  at  it.  It  seems  to  us  all  that  no  one  is  better 
fitted  than  you  to  enlarge  the  field  of  literary  criticism 
which  with  us  is  so  narrow.  But  is  it  really  true  that 
you  have  wholly  given  up  poetry  ?  That  would  be 
monstrous  ingratitude,  —  an  evil  sentiment  of  which  I 
did  not  suppose  you  capable.  For  my  part,  I  should  be 
very  sorry  to  lose  those  Souliotes  ^  whose  gallant  bear- 
ing so  captivated  me.     It  seems  to  me  that  in  a  mind 

1  "  Un  Episode  des  giieiivs  de  Souli,"  published  by  Ampere  in 
the  vohune  called  "  Hemes  de  I'.jcdie.'' 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  185 

like  yours  there  is  room  for  every  thing ;  it  is  so  rare 
a  thing  with  us  to  find  the  poetical  faculty  combined 
with  original  thought. 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  you  ever  think  where  you 
are  of  our  unhappy  literature.  I  imagine  that  upon  your 
return  you  will  find  that  it  has  come  down  a  peg  or 
two.  Every  thing  still  combines  to  keep  up  an  interest 
in  history ;  we  must  cling  to  that  as  to  an  ark  of  safety. 

"I  am  looking  forward  impatiently  to  discussing 
Niebuhr  with  you.  Shall  we  never  have  a  good  trans- 
lation of  his  book  ?  Sautelet  has  told  me  most  astonish- 
ing things  about  it.  I  am  all  the  more  impatient  as  I 
seem  to  be  for  ever  debarred  from  giving  ray  attention 
to  the  original  sources  of  ancient  history.  I  have  been 
devoting  myself,  amid  the  constant  distractions  of  my 
social  and  official  life,  to  the  Middle  Ages.  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  pursue  my  labors  in  that  direction.^ 

"  Oh  that  I  could,  like  you,  read  High  German  !  Oh 
that  I  could  feast  upon  the  Niebelungen,  which,  liow- 
ever,  I  find  a  little  too  northern  for  my  taste  !  By  the 
way,  would  it  not  be  possible  for  you  to  bring  me  home 
some  of  the  tales  of  the  l'2th  century  troubadours  who 
wrote  in  German  for  the  courts  of  Suabia  and  Bavaria? 
It  seems  to  me  there  must  exist  some  voluminous  work 
on  the    subject,  very  complete,  full  of  research,  but 

i  It  is  interesting  to  notice  liovv  mistaken  people  sometimes  are 
respecting  tlieir  true  vocation.  Younger  tlian  Ampere,  Charles 
Lenormant  was  then  only  twenty-four  years  old,  and  seems  to 
have  had  no  suspicion  that  his  love  of  art  would  lead  him  to  apply 
himself  with  ardor  to  the  study  of  antiquity,  and  make  him  one  of 
the  most  eminent  arohasologists  of  the  day. 


186  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

which,  as  usual,  has  uoi  been  translated  into  French. 
At  all  events,  I  should  be  much  obliged  to  you  if  you 
would  give  me  all  the  information  you  can,  at  least  as 
far  as  books  are  concerned. 

"Adieu,  monsieur;  go  on  heaping  up  treasures  for 
our  poor  France,  who  one  day  will,  I  hope,  thank  you 
heartily  for  it.  The  Rhine  is  a  terrible  barrier.  It 
is  for  you  and  those  like  you,  if  there  be  many  such, 
to  throw  across  that  accursed  river  a  bridge  that  will 
endure.  But,  above  all,  make  haste,  that  you  may  the 
sooner  return ;  the  Abbaye  is  dead  since  your  depart- 
ure ;  the  life  has  died  out  of  our  discussions :  come 
and  reanimate  them  with  the  immense  material  you 
will  have  gathered." 


J.-J.   AMPi:RE    TO    CHARLES   LENORMANT. 

"  Bonn,  March  4,  1827. 

"I  am  ashamed  of  letting  your  kind  and  friendly 
letter  get  the  start  of  me.  I  will  not,  at  any  rate,  make 
you  wait  for  my  answer.  I  have  for  a  long  time  in- 
tended to  write  to  you,  but  have  put  it  off  from  day  to 
day,  wishing  to  talk  to  you  of  Niebuhr  at  some  length. 
Now  I  think  it  will  be  better  to  postpone  that  until  my 
return.  He  is  not  a  man  that  can  be  readily  put  into 
aphorisms.  I  hardly  know  what  success  his  book  would 
have  in  France ;  he  is  forced  into  constant  discussions 
which  lead  him  into  a  mass  of  details,  and  the  more 
he  is  obliged  to  explain,  the  more  concise  he  makes  his 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  187 

style.    One  thing  is  certain :  it  is  the  work  of  a  superior 
man. 

"You  are  very  good  to  count  upon  my  knowledge; 
do  not  rely  too  much  upon  it,  however :  I  am  tempted 
here  by  so  many  different  objects  of  study,  even  with- 
out quitting  the  round  I  have  marked  out  for  myself, 
that  I  think  I  shall  bring  back  to  France  more  of  meth- 
ods and  materials  than  of  acquirements  properly  so 
called.  I  am  like  a  general  of  cavalry,  who,  with  one 
little  squadron,  should  be  obUged  to  hold  in  check  a 
dozen  army  coi'ps,  and  I  make  a  charge  now  in  one 
direction,  now  in  another,  but  the  enemy  seems  to  grow 
more  and  more  numerous.  Still  I  hope  that  I  shall  have 
learned  at  least  one  thing  here ;  that  is,  how  to  learn. 

"  Since  you  are  still  deep  in  the  Middle  Ages,  it  will 
not  be  uninteresting  to  you  to  learn  that  they  are  mak- 
ing a  collection  of  the  "  Historici  Rerum  Germanico- 
rum."  Herr  Pertz,  who  was  for  a  long  time  in  Sicily 
with  this  object,  is  now  in  Paris.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
well  for  you  to  try  to  see  him;  if  I  remember  our  con- 
versations rightly,  Germany  and  Sicily  are  just  what 
you  want.  Tliis  Herr  Pertz  has  discovered  in  Paris,  so 
it  appears,  some  new  laws  of  the  Lombards  and  some 
of  Charlemagne's  Capitularies  which  have  escaped 
Baluze.    Just  like  those  confounded  Germans! 

"One  of  the  professors  at  Bonn  has  written  an  excel- 
lent book  on  the  troubadours,  the  poet  Uhland  on  the 
trouveres,  and  they  have  just  published  at  Leipsic  an 
edition  of  Calderon  in  Spanish,  very  cheap,  and  infi- 
nitely more  correct  than  any  published  in  Spain. 


188  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

"  As  for  the  poets  you  speak  of,  I  do  not  think  that 
any  complete  work  upon  them  exists ;  but  many  of 
their  works  are  published,  and  of  some  there  are  excel- 
lent editions.  I  mean  to  bring  home  with  me  every 
thing  of  that  sort  I  can,  for  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  ruin  myself  in  books.  My  books  and  my  German  I 
gladly  put  at  your  disposition.  Moreover,  if  I  do  not 
succeed  in  inspiring  you  with  some  little  affection  for 
my  beloved  Niebelungen,  you  can  at  least  admire  the 
Minnesingers,  for  they  are  half  southern.  It  appears 
that  their  epic  poetry  is  derived  from  that  of  the  trou- 
badours, and  our  poets  of  the  langue  d^oil  have  cer- 
tainly supplied  them  with  the  materials  for  their 
chivalrous  epics.  Moreover,  I  promise  you  a  history 
of  the  House  of  Suabia,  by  Herr  Raumer,  which  is 
highly  spoken  of  I  am  sure  that  yours  will  be  infi- 
nitely better.  I  doubt  whether  it  be  possible  for  a 
German  to  have  your  strong  and  true  feeling  for  the 
South  and  for  art. 

Adieu,  monsieur ;  our  correspondence  shall  not  stop 
here,  but  sliall  continue  until  coiTespondence  gives  place 
to  what  is  far  better,  to  conversation,  to  the  delight- 
ful discussions  to  which  I  look  forward.  While  await- 
ing the  day  of  battle,  allow  nic,  like  a  true  Teutonic 
knight,  to  press  cordially  the  hand  of  my  adversary. 
Do  as  much  for  me  to  Messrs.  Ballanche,  Montbel,  and 
Paul  David." 

Never  was  there  a  mind  more  full  of  life  and  anima- 
tion than  that  of  Ampere  :  these  two  qualities,  it  might 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  189 

be  said,  were  superabundant  in  him.  His  absence, 
therefore,  could  not  fail  to  create  a  great  void  in  the 
flxmily  circle  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois :  all  felt  it,  but 
Mme.  Reeamier  most  of  all.  Nevertheless,  she  had 
been  the  first  to  recognize  the  great  benefit  which 
would  accrue  to  him  from  a  year's  hard  study  at  a 
learned  German  university.  She  did  her  utmost,  there- 
fore, to  encourage  the  project.  It  is  pleasant  to  notice 
the  afiectionate  solicitude  expressed  in  her  letters,  and 
how  firmly  as  well  as  kindly  she  advises  him. 
A  few  of  these  letters  I  select  at  random :  — 

"  Paris,  September  2,  1826. 

"I  have  been  wishing  to  write  you,  and  I  do  not 
know  why  I  have  not  done  so  before.  I  cannot  disap- 
prove of  your  plans,  but  I  miss  you.  I  have  seen  your 
father  several  times,  I  love  him  on  your  account  and 
on  his  own;  he  is  an  excellent  man.  At  present  he 
has  only  one  idea,  but  as  it  is  easy  for  me  to  share  it, 
we  get  on  admirably,  and  talk  only  of  you. 

"  Adieu !  Write  to  me,  and  ever  rely  upon  my  ten- 
derest  friendship." 


"  October  8,  1826. 

"  I  am  so  touched  at  the  pleasure  you  tell  me  my  last 
letter  gave  you,  that  I  lose  not  a  moment  in  order  that 
you  may  still  receive  these  few  lines  of  remembrance  at 
Berne.  I  repeat  again,  that  I  both  miss  you  and  ap- 
prove of  your  plans.  I  shall  see  your  father  frequently. 
I  was  charmed  with  the  last  conversation  I  had  with 


190  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPJ^RE 

him.  lie  is  resigned  to  your  absence,  and  hopes  much 
from  the  future :  you  know  that  he  is  going  to  pass  a 
few  days  at  Vanteuil.  I  shall  see  him  often  this  winter; 
I  intend  to  ask  him  to  give  me  the  verses  you  have 
sent  him :  I  am  a  little  jealous  of  this  preference ;  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  the  first  right  to  your  poetical 
confidences.  Adieu  !  This  long  absence  is,  however, 
very  sad,  I  miss  our  pleasant  habits.  Am^lie  is  ill; 
they  fear  another  miscarriage.  The  Duke  de  Laval 
leaves  in  a  few  days :  my  life  is  made  up  of  anxieties 
and  regrets.  Write  to  me,  give  me  a  detailed  account 
of  your  occupations,  and  be  well  assured  that  you  will 
find  us  upon  your  return  unchanged. 

"  I  think  I  may  ask  you,  as  a  sister  might,  to  apply  to 
me  if  you  have  any  temporary  embarrassment  in  regard 
to  your  finances.  I  lay  claim  to  confidences  of  all  sorts. 
Once  more,  adieu;  keep  busy,  and  remember  your 
friends.  I  have  a  presentiment  that  you  will  work  out 
your  destiny  in  accordance  with  your  desires." 


"  December  13,  1826. 

"  I  have  been  meaning  every  day  to  write  to  you, 
and  reproaching  myself  for  a  silence  which  leaves  you 
ignorant  of  the  great  pleasure  your  letters  have  given 
me ;  and  I  have  just  received  a  note  from  you  so  sad 
and  affecting  that  I  cannot  forgive  myself  for  the  pain 
I  have  caused  you.  You  must  have  received  a  long 
letter  from  Alexis  de  Jussieu.  You  are  the  chief  and 
almost  the  only  subject   of  our  conversations.     You 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  191 

know  I  like  M.  de  Jussieu,  but  I  fear  that  the  want  of 
stability  in  his  character  will  be  detrimental  to  his  suc- 
cess in  life.  Without  determination  and  perseverance 
we  can  do  nothing  truly  great. 

"  This  is  why,  though  I  feel  your  absence  sensibly, 
I  have  so  strongly  commended  a  resolution  which  gave 
proof  of  a  strong  will.  I  have  never  doubted  your 
mental  abilities,  but  I  have  sometimes  feared  that  the 
versatility  of  your  character  might  prevent  your  em- 
ploying them  profitably ;  reassured  on  this  point,  I  am 
at  ease  about  all  the  rest. 

"  The  account  you  give  me  of  the  employment  of 
your  time  causes  me  real  satisfaction.  This  journey 
will  be  of  great  service  to  you. 

"Your  first  visit  to  M.  Schlegel  also  very  much 
amused  me:  your  letters  are  charming.  Say  to  M. 
Schlegel  that  I  have  not  forgotten  him,  and  let  me 
know  how  I  can  send  him  a  lithograph  of  my  portrait 
by  Gerard. 

"  I  seldom  see  your  father ;  he  is  still  constant  in  his 
visits  to  M.  Cuvier.  When  thinking  of  the  future,  do 
your  thoughts  ever  turn  in  that  direction  ?  Is  that  all 
forgotten  ?  Why  is  it  you  say  nothing  to  me  about  it  ? 
I  should  also  like  to  know  when  you  purpose  returning. 
]  can  promise  you  that  you  will  find  your  friends  pre- 
cisely as  you  left  them,  and  that  you  will  have  lost 
nothing  by  your  absence." 


102  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

"  March  26,  1827. 

"  I  have  received  two  letters  frcin  you  since  I  last 
wrote.  I  have  no  need  to  tell  you  with  what  interest 
I  read  your  letters.  I  was  especially  charmed  by  the 
article  you  were  afraid  would  shock  me. 

"  The  impression  left  upon  you  by  this  course  of 
exegetical  lectures  seems  to  denote  a  progress  upon 
which  I  set  the  highest  value.  With  superior  mind 
and  faculties,  it  is  impossible  not  to  suffer  from  absence 
of  belief:  since  you  cannot  believe  with  the  simple, 
believe  with  the  wise ;  thus  by  different  roads  we  shall 
reach  the  same  result.  I  am  more  and  more  convinced 
every  day  of  the  nothingness  of  all  which  has  not  this 
for  its  end,  or  at  least  for  its  hope.  When  shall  we  be 
able  to  talk  together  ?  How  many  things  I  shall  have 
to  ask  you!  I  see  frequently  your  friend  Alexis  de 
Jussieu ;  he  is  very  polite  to  me ;  I  lecture  him,  and 
yet  he  is  not  vexed,  which  seems  to  me  a  real  triumph. 
M.  and  Mme.  Lenormant  and  M.  Ballanche  always 
think  of  you  Avith  kind  interest,  and  we  scarcely  pass  a 
day  without  talking  of  the  poor  absentee  whom  we 
miss  and  whom  we  all  long  for,  but  I  most  of  all. 
Adieu,  adieu !  Did  you  think  of  me  on  the  24th  ^  of 
this  month?  I  passed  that  sad  anniversary  in  the 
poor  little  valley,  and  read  some  admirable  letters  from 
our  saintly  friend.     You  shall  see  them  some  day." 


1  Anniversary  of  the  death  of  Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  which 
took  place  March  24,  1826. 


ANT)  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  193 

When  the  lectures  at  the  iinivei'sity  were  over, 
Ampere  left  Bonn,  and,  before  returning  to  France, 
went  to  Berlin,  Dresden,  and  Munich,  not  forgetting 
Weimar,  whither  he  was  led  by  a  passionate  admira- 
tion for  Goethe.  Received  with  the  most  friendly  cor- 
diality by  the  patriarch  of  German  literature,  Ampere, 
in  writing  to  Mme.  Recamier,  drew  a  very  lively  and 
striking  portrait  of  the  man  of  genius  whom  he  had 
been  permitted  to  see  in  the  privacy  of  his  home ;  and 
Mme.  Recamier,  who  lost  no  oi^i^ortunity  of  showing 
her  friends  to  advantage,  readily  communicated  these 
piquant  details.  The  result  of  a  communication  of  this 
sort  made  to  Henri  de  Latouche  was  the  publication 
by  the  latter  in  the  "  Globe  "  of  the  sketch  of  Goethe's 
home  and  the  court  of  Weimar. 

Written  by  an  enthusiastic  visitor,  these  details  were 
very  interesting  to  the  French  public,  but  they  only 
half  satisfied  the  pride  of  the  Germans.  On  seeing 
them  published  in  the  "Globe,"  Mme.  Recamier  was 
doubtful  of  the  eflfect  they  might  produce,  and  ad- 
dressed the  following  note  to  Ampere:  — 

"  May  22,  1827. 

"What  will  you  say  of  this  indiscretion?  M.  de 
Latouche,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  three  years,  called 
day  before  yesterday ;  he  asked  me  if  I  had  heard  from 
you.  I  spoke  of  your  last  letter  from  Weimar.  He 
wanted  to  see  it,  thought  it  charming,  and  asked  per- 
mission to  make  a  short  extract  from  it  for  the  "Globe ; " 
and  this  morning  the  "  Globe  "   arrives,  and  I  inclose 

9  M 


194  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£RE 

this  extract  to  give  you  the  pleasure  of  seeing  how  you 
look  in  print.  Tell  me  whether  you  are  pleased  or 
annoyed.  You  will  notice  a  few  slight  changes.  Adieu. 
I  await  impatiently  your  next  letters,  and  with  still 
greater  impatience  the  time  when  I  shall  receive  no 
more." 

The  traveller  did  not  return  to  the  fold  until  autumn. 
He  was  persuaded  that  to  be  fully  imbued  with  the 
sentiment  of  any  literature,  it  is  necessary  to  know  the 
land  and  the  places  which  have  inspired  it ;  and,  as  he 
somewhere  says,  a  better  knowledge  can  be  obtained 
of  the  poetry  of  a  nation  by  journeying  in  the  country 
than  by  a  multitude  of  dissertations  and  analyses.  The 
study  of  Scandinavian  poetry,  therefore,  naturally  in- 
spired him  with  the  desire  to  visit  Denmark,  Sweden, 
and  Norway.  This  extension  of  his  absence  seemed  at 
first  somewhat  hard  to  the  father  of  our  young  friend ; 
but  interest  in  one's  work,  whether  scientific  or  literary, 
justified  anything  in  the  eyes  of  the  illustrious  savant/ 
and  when  relations  or  friends,  less  easily  satisfied,  would 
ask  him  what  motives  had  induced  his  son  to  go  to 
these  northern  regions,  he  would  unhesitatingly  reply : 
"  As  it  is  a  disputed  question  whether  the  Edda  or  the 
Niebelungen  is  the  more  ancient,  it  was  very  necessary 
that  he  should  go  there  to  verify  the  identity  of  Sigurd 
and  Siegfried."  This  identification  was  not  the  only 
profit  derived  from  this  journey.  Ampere's  residence 
in  Germany,  his  travels  in  Scandinavia,  and,  above  all, 
his  course  of  hard  study  in  the  University  of  Bonn,  not 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  195 

only  furnished  him  with  valuable  materials,  but  revealed 
to  him  his  double  vocation  of  traveller  and  critic.  A 
few  lines  from  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois  welcomed  him 
upon  his  return  :  — 

"  Sunday,  27. 

"  j\I.  Ballanche  is  writing  to  you,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  it  is  only  I  who  can  tell  you  how  impatiently  you 
are  expected.  I  have  received  charming  letters  from 
you ;  the  last  especially  went  to  my  heart.  Hasten  to 
animate  by  your  narrations  our  poor  salo7i  at  the 
Abbaye,  which  you  have  been  pleased  to  call  your 
patrie.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  is  looking  forward  to 
your  coming.     M.  Lenormant  has  arrived." 

It  was  after  the  return  of  Ampere  to  Paris  that  his 
young  sister's  marriage  took  place.  Unfortunately  this 
event  onl}^  brought  more  trouble  and  unhappiness  into 
the  family  of  the  illustrious  mathematician.  His  son- 
in-law  lost  his  reason  and  died  in  a  lunatic  asylum, 
while  his  daughter  fell  a  victim  to  a  dreadful  disease. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
devotion,  patience,  and  self-forgetfulness  displayed  by 
J.-J.  Ampere  in  these  trying  circumstances.  But  when 
we  consider  all  the  trials  he  had  to  encounter  in  his  own 
family  circle,  we  can  better  understand  what  a  refuge  for 
him  was  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  with  its  atmosphere  of 
peace  and  affection.  When,  cast  down  by  prosaic  vex- 
ations or  painful  anxieties,  he  repaired  to  that  salon 
where  his  trials  met  with  the  ready  sympathy  of  true 
friends,  little  by  little  his  mind  regained  its  calm,  his 


1 96  JEA  N-JA  CQ  UES  A  MP£RE 

interest  in  all  general  questions  drew  him  away  from 
painful  thoughts,  and  he  was  himself  again,  full  of 
the  life,  ardor,  and  hope  so  natural  to  his  age  and  char- 
acter. 

Ampere  made  Mme.  Recamier  acquainted  with  all 
the  young  members  of  the  de  Jussieu  family,  —  Adrien, 
Laurent,  and  Alexis.  He  took  pleasure  in  thus  intro- 
ducing into  the  circle  which  he  called  his  patrie  friends 
of  his  own  age.  He  also  brought  thither  Sautelet  and 
Prosper  Merimee. 

The  latter  had  just  entered  upon  the  profession  of  let- 
ters, in  which  he  directly  took  a  high  position  by  the 
originality  of  his  mind,  the  soberness,  vigor,  and  purity 
of  his  style.  A  romantic  adventure,  far  from  injuring  his 
reputation  by  the  cruel  publicity  given  to  it,  gave  him, 
on  the  contrary,  additional  importance  in  the  eyes  of 
worldly  people.  Under  a  cold  and  sceptical  exterior, 
his  friends  declared  he  hid  a  faithful  heart.  They 
maintained  that  his  somewhat  haughty  and  cynical 
reserve  was  only  put  on  to  conceal  his  timidity;  it 
increased,  at  all  events,  the  distinction  of  his  appear- 
ance and  manners.  In  conversation  he  was  solid,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  piquant ;  he  was  highly  appreciated 
by  all  Mme.  Recamier's  circle,  and  became  an  intimate 
friend  of  M.  Lenormant. 

Ampere  and  Gerard  (the  celebrated  painter)  con- 
ceived the  idea  of  giving  a  career  to  M.  Merimee,  and 
inducing  him  to  enter  into  diplomacy,  for  which  he  was. 
in  many  respects  eminently  fitted.  Mme.  Recamier  was 
spoken  to  on  the  subject,  and  readily  entered  into  the 


PROSPER   MERIMEE 

from  an  etching  by  Lalauze 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  197 

project.  The  Duke  de  Laval  had  just  been  appointed 
ambassador  to  London ;  he  liked  wit  and  men  of  wit, 
and  the  idea  of  rallying  to  the  Bourbon  government  a 
young  man  whose  literary  reputation  was  already  so 
brilliant  would  have  been  attractive  to  him.  He  would 
have  been  very  willing  to  attach  M.  Merimee  to  the 
embassy  as  secretary  of  legation,  but  before  the  nego- 
tiation had  made  much  progress,  Ampere  left  Paris  for 
the  south  of  France  with  his  fathei",  who  had  been  for 
some  time  suffering  from  an  affection  of  the  larynx,  now 
become  alarming.  Mrae.  Recamier  also  left  for  Dieppe, 
accompanied  by  Ballanche,  while  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
was  on  his  way  to  the  Pyrenees,  and  Mme.  Lenormant 
was  awaiting  at  Toulon  the  return  of  her  husband,  from 
whom  she  had  long  been  separated.  The  inmates  of 
the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  being  thus  dispersed,  the  affair 
of  M.  Merimee  was  temporarily  postponed. 

Mme.  Recamier  wrote  from  Dieppe  to  Ampere :  — 

"  June  28,  1829. 

"I  arrived  yesterday  at  Dieppe,  and  hastened  directly 
to  the  seaside  to  find  something  to  remind  me  of 
Naples.  The  weather  was  enchanting,  the  sun  was 
sinking  into  the  sea,  the  air  was  sweet  and  fresh. 
Hardly  had  I  abandoned  myself  to  these  sweet  in- 
fluences, when  I  heard  myself  called  by  name  by  one 
of  the  ugliest,  heaviest,  most  tiresome  of  men  ;  one  that 
at  any  time  it  would  be  most  disagreeable  to  meet,  but 
especially  at  such  a  moment.  It  was  absolutely  impos- 
sible to  get  rid  of  him ;  he  felt  himself  obliged  to  give 


198  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPt:RE 

me  the  pleasure  of  his  society  all  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing. When  I  saw  that  there  was  no  means  of  escape,  I 
set  out  with  him  to  visit  all  the  inns  in  pursuit  of  a  lodg- 
ing ;  for  in  my  enthusiasm  I  had  gone  to  look  at  the  sea 
before  thinking  of  settling  myself.  I  found  quite  a 
pretty  room  at  the  Hotel  des  Bains.  I  have  been  to 
the  post-office  for  my  letters,  and  found  a  number; 
but  yours,  and  one  from  Amelie,  which  announces  the 
return  of  M.  Lenormant,  were  the  ones  that  went  to 
my  heart.  Adieu,  adieu !  Shall  I  see  you  here  ?  shall 
we  have  some  pleasant  walks  together  by  the  sea? 

"  Pray  tell  me  all  your  plans,  of  your  father's  health, 
of  M.  de  Vatimesnil's  audience,  of  Cousin,  Yillemain, 
and  especially  of  yourself  " 


"  Dieppe,  August  1,  1829. 

"  This  is  the  day  you  leave  ;  ^  I  follow  you  with  my 
thoughts  and  good  wishes.  I  wait  impatiently  for  new8 
of  your  journey.  I  was  talking  this  morning  with  M. 
Ballanche  of  your  illustrious  father,  for  whom  he  ha^? 
the  most  tender  affection  ;  I  spoke  of  you,  of  the  future ; 
it  was  pleasant  to  discuss  here  beside  the  sea  that  d*>- 
lightful  project  of  our  becoming  but  one  family. 

"  We  are  living  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  in  perfect 
solitude.  I  go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock,  I  rise  at  six ;  I 
take  sea-baths,  which  are  to  make  me  an  entirely  new 
creature ;  I  read,  I  stroll  by  the  sea-shore,  I  think  and 

1  For  Hy feres. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  199 

dream  of  my  friends,  I  make  a  few  morning  calls,  and 
pass  the  evening  with  M.  Ballanche.  He  adapts  him- 
self perfectly  to  this  solitude ;  you  are  only  wanting  to 
enliven  it  by  your  wit,  and  to  save  us  by  your  versa- 
tility from  a  little  monotony.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  has 
arrived  at  Cauterets ;  I  received  yesterday  a  letter  from 
him,  full  of  keen  and  tender  sensibility  ;  the  interest  he 
takes  in  you  is  another  claim  upon  my  affection ;  noth- 
ing is  sweeter  than  to  be  able  to  bind  together  and 
merse  in  one  all  the  interests  of  our  hearts. 

Adieu !  Tell  your  father  how  much  I  am  interested 
in  him ;  think  of  me  in  your  vexations ;  let  me  hear 
from  you  often.  I  dare  not  hope  to  see  you  here,  but 
I  think  of  you  so  constantly  that  it  is  not  a  separation." 


"  September  24,  1829. 

"  M.  Ballanche  has  had  very  encouraging  news ;  we 
hope  that  you  will  bring  your  father  back  to  us  in  good 
health,  and  that  you  may  long  enjoy  the  reward  of 
your  care  and  sacrifices.  But  this  winter  will  be  very  sad 
for  everybody.  I  am  as  much  discouraged  as  you  are, 
and  look  forward  to  the  return  of  the  warm  season  with 
as  much  impatience.  Write  to  me,  tell  me  if  you  are 
working;  write  often.  "We  are  all  very  affectionately 
interested  in  you,  and  I  most  of  all.  I  miss  you  38  I 
should  do  a  brother,  a  son.  Do  not  complain  of  thews 
names;  I  know  none  sweeter." 


200  JEAN-JA  CQ UES  AMPi:RE 

"  October  11,  1829. 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  find  you  taking  heart  again,  and 
how  I  share  your  joy !  You  will  have  received  the 
letter  in  which  I  announce  to  you  that  we  are  living  in 
the  new  apartment.  Mme.  de  Boigne,  the  Duke  de 
Laval,  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  —  supreme  judges  in  mat- 
ters of  taste, — find  it  charming  and  enchantingly  ar- 
ranged ;  but  I  shall  not  fully  enjoy  my  success  until 
spring.  The  political  situation  is  still  the  same :  the  Duke 
de  Laval  passed  five  days  in  Paris.  Our  conversations 
were  painful :  he  left  yesterday  for  London,  charged 
with  instructions  favorable  to  the  Greeks ;  but  though 
he  is  generous,  his  aristocratic  tendencies,  I  fear,  render 
him  easily  satisfied  where  the  interests  of  the  people 
are  concerned.  I  spoke  to  him  of  your  friend  Merimee ; 
he  does  not  know  him  personally,  but  being  your  friend 
was  a  recommendation  in  his  eyes  ;  and  if  he  still  has 
the  desire  to  enter  upon  the  diplomatic  career,  he  will 
have  with  the  Duke  de  Laval  a  very  pleasant  debut. 
As  it  is  not  my  jjlace  to  talk  to  him  about  his  affairs, 
you  had  better  write  to  him.  The  Duke  de  Laval  re- 
turns in  a  month,  and  I  shall,  I  think,  be  able  to  arrange 
this  matter  easily.  I  have  for  M.  Merimee  that  interest 
which  a  noble  character  and  real  talent  naturally  in- 
spire, still  further  increased  by  the  interest  that  you 
yourself  take  in  him. 

"  M.  de  Chateaubriand  is  still  engaged  upon  his  his- 
torical labors,  and  waiting  very  impatiently  for  the 
time  when  he  can  take  part  in  the  making  of  history. 
He  is  still  talked  of  for  the  head  of  the  ministry  whiclj 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  201 

is  to  succeed  that  now  iu  power ;  this  would  seem  a 
natural  thing,  but  what  is  probable  never  happens. 
Meanwhile,  I  am  making  some  historic  researches  for 
him,  which  give  me  quite  a  taste  for  history.  I  have 
read  Thiers  and  Mignet,  I  am  reading  Tacitus.  I 
should  like  also  to  collect  materials  for  your  book,  but 
you  are  too  learned  to  have  need  of  me.  We  talk  of 
you  every  day  of  our  lives ;  I  miss  our  conversations, 
our  disputes,  and  all  our  old  life  to  which  I  have  be- 
come so  pleasantly  accustomed,  and  all  who  know  you 
share  my  regrets. 
"  Write  to  me." 

The  rejection  of  a  career,  opening  under  the  most 
favorable  auspices,  —  a  rejection  based  wholly  on  scru- 
ples caused  by  political  convictions,  or,  if  you  please, 
political  dislikes,  —  is  so  rare  an  occurrence  that  I  may 
be  permitted  to  dwell  upon  it. 

We  have  just  seen,  from  Mme.  Recamier's  letter,  that 
the  success  of  the  negotiation  which  was  to  attach  M. 
Merimee  to  the  embassy  at  London  only  depended 
now  upon  his  own  consent.  Ampere  was  charged  to 
obtain  it.  He  accordingly  wrote  to  his  friend,  and  the 
following  is  the  reply,  addressed  directly  to  the  kind- 
hearted  lady  whose  intervention  had  been  requested  :  — 

"  Madame,  — A  letter  from  Ampere  informs  me  tliat 

you  are  kindly  thinking  of  me  to  accompany  the  Duke 

de  Laval  in  his  embassy  to  London,  and  that  you  are 

disposed  to  solicit  him  in  my  favor.     I  came  to  the 

9* 


202  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPi:RE 

Abbaye-aux-Bois  this  morning  to  talk  with  you  on  this 
subject,  and  I  went  away  regretting  that  I  had  not 
been  able  to  present  my  thanks,  and  express  to  you 
how  much  I  was  touched  by  this  mark  of  interest  on 
your  part.  I  beg  permission,  madame,  to  explain  to 
you  the  motives  which  impel  me  to-day  to  refuse  a 
favor  which  at  any  other  time  I  would  have  accepted 
with  the  greatest  pleasure. 

"  I  am  the  author  of  a  few  indiiferent  works,  and,  as 
such,  my  name  has  appeared  in  the  newspapers.  A 
stranger  all  my  life  to  politics,  in  my  books  I  have  ex- 
pressed (and  perhaps  too  crudely)  my  opinions.  I  have 
thought  that  in  accepting  any  employment,  however  un- 
important, under  the  present  administration,  I  should 
not  be  acting  consistently.  Shall  I  confess  to  you,  that 
M.de  Chateaubriand's  example  has  confirmed  me  in  this 
resolution?  This  is  the  height  of  presumption,  you  will 
say ;  and  indeed  it  ill  becomes  me  to  compare  the  post 
of  secretary  or  under-secretary  with  an  important  em- 
bassy, or  to  mention  myself  in  the  same  breath  with 
the  first  writer  of  our  time.  Nevertheless,  madame,  the 
common  soldier  cannot  do  better  than  follow,  as  far  as 
he  can,  his  general's  example,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
M.  de  Chateaubriand  has  pointed  out  the  duty  of  all 
men  of  letters,  great  or  small. 

"And  then  the  bad  habit  of  writing!  One  is  never 
cured  of  it.  I  should  be  obliged  either  to  cease  writing, 
which  would,  perhaps,  be  difficult  for  me,  or  put  myself 
under  restraint,  and  my  solitary  merit  so  far  has  been 
my  frankness.     Pride  again,  —  but  this  time  I  do  not 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  203 

defend  it,  and  this  motive  is  of  very  little  weight  in 
comparison  with  the  first.  Might  I  venture  to  beg  you, 
madauie,  to  reserve  your  kind  interest  in  me  for  another 
time.  Meanwhile,  pray  beheve  in  my  lively  gratitude, 
and  accept  my  thanks  and  respectful  homage. 

"P.    :MERIMiE." 

A  few  days  afterward  came  another  note,  confirming 
this  refusal. 

"Madame,"   wrote    M.   Merimee,    "M.   Gerard   has 
talked  to  me  like  a  friend  and  father.     He  said  to  me 
(what  was  worth  more  than  any  other  argument)  that 
were  he  in  my  place  he  would  accept.     Nevertheless, 
madame,  he  has  not  overcome  the  scruples  of  which 
you  are  aware,  and  I  persist  in  my  refusal.     I  perceive 
that  in  acting  thus  1  lay  myself  open  to  ridicule,  and 
have  the  air  of  extraordinarily  exaggerating  my  own  im- 
portance.    But  that  cannot  be  helped.    Granted  that  it 
be  pride  or  false  reasoning,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to 
accept.     I  have  consulted  no  one,  but  I  have  debated 
the  question  long  in  my  mind,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
in  persisting  in  my  first  determination  I  have  yielded 
to  no  consideration  of  indolence,  &c.     If  my  obstinacy 
does  not  make  you  think  too  ill  of  me,  I  shall  be  ex- 
tremely flattered  to  be  presented  by  you  to  the  Duke 
de  Laval.     The  acquaintance  of  a  gallant  gentleman 
and  a  man  of  wit  is  always  desirable.     However,  mad- 
ame, I  shall  venture  to  beg  you  not  to  mention  me  to 
him  in  the  character  of  a  diplomatic  aspirant.     That 
would  involve  me  in  disagreeable  explanations.     It  is 


204  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP  ME 

to  you  only,  whose  goodness  is  known  to  me,  that  I 

dare  exphun  the  motives  of  ray  refusal,  and  speak  with 

open  heart.     Please  accept,  madarae,  the  assurance  of 

my  gratitude  and  profound  respect. 

"  P.  Meriisiee." 

M.  M^rim^e  did  himself  much  honor  by  these  scru- 
ples, even  in  the  eyes  of  the  friends  of  the  government 
which  he  refused  to  serve.  I  have  taken  pleasure  in 
recalling  these  memories  of  a  time  when  he  belonged 
entirely  to  letters ;  and  would  to  Heaven  this  admirable 
Avriter  had  never  been  unfaithful  to  them  ! 

Meanwhile,  the  mild  climate  of  Provence,  absolute 
rest  and  filial  care,  had  almost  restored  the  health  of 
Andre  Ampere.  From  Hyeres  he,  with  his  son,  went 
to  Marseilles,  where  he  was  welcomed  with  the  utmost 
cordiality  and  respect.  Yielding  to  pressing  solicita- 
tions, J.-J.  Ampere  consented  to  give  at  the  AthensBum 
of  that  city  a  course  of  lectures  on  literature.  The  sub- 
ject of  these  lectures  was  the  literatures  of  the  North 
of  Europe,  though  he  at  the  same  time  unfolded  with 
much  brilliancy  his  ideas  on  the  poetry  of  all  nations. 
In  Paris,  the  friends  of  the  young  professor  waited  with 
much  anxiety  to  hear  the  result  of  this  debut.  Mme. 
Recamier  wrote  to  him :  — 

"  March  14,  1830. 

"  It  is  ages  since  I  wrote,  and  yet  you  have  never 
been  more  in  my  thoughts.  I  feel  warmly  grateful  to 
you  for  your  care  of  your  excellent  father.  I  joyfully 
treasure  up  in  my  heart  of  hearts  everything  that  may 


^li\^Z>  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  205 

increase  my  good  opinion  of  you,  and  give  me  new 
reasons  for  loving  you. 

"  I  like  to  talk  about  you  with  your  friends.  I  see 
sometimes  Sautelet  and  Merimee.  Poor  Sautelet  is 
very  tired  of  his  lawsuit,  though  he  accepts  the 
situation  not  only  with  courage  but  with  very  good 
grace. 

"  Your  lectures  will  soon  begin :  it  makes  my  heart 
beat.  No,  certainly,  I  should  not  like  to  be  there ;  I 
should  be  too  anxious.  You  can  imagine  how  impa- 
tiently we  await  particulars. 

"So  you  have  been  in  society?  So  have  I.  I  went 
to  a  matinee  at  Mrae.  de  Sainte-Aulaire's,  and  to  a 
dinner  at  Mme.  de  Boigne's.  I  have  also  been  at  the 
Duchess  de  Ragusa's ;  I  saw  a  multitude  of  people  I 
had  not  met  for  centuries.  You  cannot  imagine  how 
kind  and  cordial  everybody  was;  I  was  very  much 
astonished  and  charmed  at  it,  for  it  seemed  to  me  very 
natural  to  be  forgotten. 

"  The  fine  weather  is  fast  approaching ;  tlje  lilacs  and 
roses  will  have  bloomed  before  your  return :  it  is  very 
sad." 

The  professor's  success  was  great ;  six  hundred  audi- 
tors overwhelmed  him  with  enthusiastic  applause,  and 
he  himself  became  conscious  of  the  talent  which  he 
was  henceforth  to  display  in  expounding  his  ideas 
and  setting  forth  the  result  of  his  researches.  If  J.-J. 
Ampere  had  not  precisely  a  creative  mind,  he  was,  par 
excellence,   a  promulgator.    Few  persons  seized  with 


206  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

more  rapidity  and  assimilated  more  completely  con- 
ceptions the  most  diverse,  or  knew  so  well  how  to  pre- 
sent them  in  a  fashion  as  ingenious  as  it  was  effective. 
He  has  thus  disseminated  by  means  of  his  lectures  and 
books  a  multitude  of  new  ideas. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  of  the  illustrious  philosojsher's 
pleasure  in  the  triumph  of  his  son  ;  great,  too,  was  the 
satisfaction  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois :  M.  Lenormant 
took  it  upon  himself  to  congratulate  the  successful 
young  lecturer :  — 

"  April  8,  1830. 

"  I  should  like  to  talk  to  you  of  your  lecture,  but  you 
must  be  tired  of  hearing  it  praised.  The  impulse  is 
now  no  longer  from  the  centre  to  the  circumference : 
we  get  our  light  from  Marseilles;  you  will  be  con- 
demned for  a  Federalist,  —  beware  I  I  am,  moreover, 
delighted  that  you  are  pleased  with  the  people  of  Mar- 
seilles. Yes,  it  is  odd,  after  talking  of  Scandinavia  to 
come  in  sight  of  the  blue  sea  of  the  South ;  it  is  still 
more  strange  that  Scandinavia  should  be  discussed  only 
at  Marseilles.  I  take  a  personal  pride,  moreover,  in 
your  success,  for  I  am  one  of  those  who  never  doubted 
of  the  good  you  would  derive  from  thus  trying  your 
hand  at  lecturing. 

"  Paris  will  now  be  wanting  you ;  your  friends  will 
no  longer  be  obliged  to  answer  for  you ;  there  is  nothing 
like  type  for  making  a  man.  Print  all  you  can,  —  the 
whole  course,  or,  at  least,  the  greater  part.  Your  first 
lecture  is  not  only  a  model  of  sagacity  and  breadth  of 
view,  but   the  style   is  excellent,  —  nervous,   flexible, 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  207 

varied,  plastic.  You  will  improve  visibly  iu  this  respect 
iu  correcting  the  proofs.  Do  you  not  think  it  strange 
of  Parisian  folk  to  talk  to  a  great  man  as  I  talk  to 
you  ? 

"  It  is,  at  all  events,  a  good  thing  for  you  that  your 
first  great  success  should  have  occurred  at  Marseilles. 
It  will  make  you  more  eclectic,  and  you  will  turn  again 
to  my  Southern  Europe,  which  is  every  thing,  or  almost 
every  thing.     There  is  eclecticism  for  you  ! 

"  You  have  seen  the  trial  of  the  '  Globe '  and  the 
'  National.'  We  think  here  that  the  ground  taken  by 
the  'National'  is  disastrous,  but  it  has  editorial  talent 
of  the  highest  order.  Sautelet's  bearing  in  court  was 
marked  by  perfect  propriety.  As  for  the  '  Globe '  and 
Dubois,  it  is  the  Peasant  of  the  Danube  over  again ; 
but  I  think  his  position  much  nearer  the  true  one, 
and  politically  more  honest. 

"  You  asked  me  a  long  while  ago  for  a  list  of  Egyp- 
tian divinities.  I  have  never  sent  you  any  thing,  as  I 
have  been  all  the  time  waiting  for  the  final  version 
from  Champollion.  If  you  still  have  need  of  it  I  shall 
now  be  able  to  send  you  something  positive.  M.  Bal- 
lanche  has  learned  by  a  letter  from  your  father  that  you 
were  to  read  at  the  Athenaeum  '  La  Mort  de  Virginie.' 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  happy  it  makes  the  poor  man.  I 
hope  your  eloquence  will  get  him  some  subscribers  at 
Marseilles.  What  do  you  think  of 'Hernani?'  Have 
you  spoken  of  it  to  your  six  hundred  hearers  ?  It  seems 
to  me  that  you  ought  to  help  on  the  new  school  a  little 
down  there.     Sainte-Beuve  seems  to  me  to  have  taken 


208  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

a  very  high  rank  in  his  '  Consolations.'     Adieu  ;  enjoy 
your  fame,  and  do  not  forget  the  obscure  Parisians. 

"  Ch.  Lenormajjt." 

In  a  letter  to  Ampere,  written  during  the  following 
June,  Mme.  Recamier  alludes  particularly  to  the  im- 
provement which  was  thought  to  be  produced  in  his 
poor  father's  health :  — 

"No,  certainly  not,  I  am  not  angry;  it  is  you  who 
might  be  so.  I  have  not  written,  I  have  not  replied  to 
you ;  an  iiTesistible  indolence,  a  dread  of  the  act  of 
writing,  which  has  become  a  sort  of  mania  with  me, 
has  made  me  confide  to  M.  Ballanche  the  task  of  assur- 
ing you  of  my  constant  and  tender  friendship ;  but  I 
wish  to  tell  you  myself  how  much  I  regret  that  I  shall 
not  be  in  Paris  when  you  return.  I  leave  for  Dieppe 
on  the  25th  of  this  month,  and  I  shall  not  return  until 
the  end  of  July.  It  is  sad  to  add  some  weeks  more  to 
a  separation  which  I  already  think  so  long ;  but,  how- 
ever, you  have  accomplished  the  end  for  which  your 
journey  was  undertaken,  you  have  the  reward  of  your 
sacrifices,  and  you  may  almost  say  to  yourself  that  it  is 
to  your  care  that  your  excellent  father  owes  his  re- 
stored health.  You  have,  moreover,  reaped  by  the  way 
a  harvest  of  success,  which  you  did  not  expect. 

"  Why  must  news  -^  as  painful  as  it  is  unexpected 
come  to  sadden  your  heart  ?  I  do  not  wish  to  dwell 
upon  these  thoughts  now ;  we  will  talk  of  them  here- 

1  The  death  of  Sautelet,  who  committed  suicide,  May  13th. 


ANZ>  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  209 

after.  This  poor  young  man  made  me  his  confidant; 
his  friendship  for  you  attached  me  to  him ;  I  well 
knew  how  you  would  feel.  Adieu,  adieu ;  how  many 
things  we  shall  have  to  tell  each  other !  " 

The  political   horizon  was  dark  with   clouds  when 
the  two  Amperes  returned  to  Paris  in  the  middle  of 
June,  1830.     The  struggle  between  the  nation  and  the 
crown  was  near  its  end,  and  in  less  than  two  months 
the  famous  ordinances  appeared  which  were  the  death- 
warrant  of  the  elder  branch  of  the  house  of  Bourbon. 
Ampere's  political  convictions  were  strong  and  very 
liberal,  but  he  took  no  part  in  the  controversy  carried 
on  by  the  daily  press,  though  he  was  on  the  most  in- 
timate  terms   with   Armand    Carrel,   M.  Bastide,   M. 
Magnin,  and  other  editors  of  the  "  National "  and  the 
"Globe;"   nor  would   he  accept    any  position  which 
would   force   him   to  engage   in  the  strife  of  parties. 
Though  primarily  of  a  speculative  and  literary  turn  of 
mind,  he  was  yet  an  ardent  friend  to  religious  and 
political  liberty ;  calling  himself  a  republican,  he  was 
led  by  his  temperament  to  take  sides  always  with  the 
opposition,  under  whatever  government,  and  he  had  a 
sturdy  hatred  of  arbitrary  power.     It  was  natural  that 
he  should   hail  with   ardent  aspirations  a  revolution 
which  seemed  to  him  a  progress^ 

In  the  first  ministry  formed  under  the  government 
of  Louis  Philippe,  the  Duke  de  Broglie  held  the  port- 
folio of  Public  Instruction.  Among  the  happy  meas- 
ures which  marked  his  short  administration   was  the 

N 


210  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

opening  of  the  Noi'inal  school,  which  had  been  closed 
during  the  last  years  of  the  Restoration,  and  the  estab- 
lisliment  in  this  school  of  a  course  of  lectures  on  litera- 
ture, which  Avas  confided  to  J.-J.  Araj^ere.  Our  young 
professor  occupied  this  post  three  years,  and  at  the  same 
time  temporarily  supplied  the  place  of  two  members  of 
the  faculty  in  succession :  first  of  M.  Fauriel,  and  the 
subsequent  year  of  M.  Villeraaiu.  In  1833,  the  death 
of  Andrieux  left  vacant  the  chair  of  French  literature 
at  the  College  de  France.  Ampere,  whose  talent  and 
fitness  had  been  attested  by  four  years  of  successful 
teaching,  was,  by  vote  of  the  professors,  appointed  to 
succeed  him. 

Just  at  this  time,  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  a  man  of  keenly 
critical  mind,  poet  and  prose-writer,  was  anxious  to 
try  his  hand  at  teaching.  He  spoke  to  Ampdre  on  the 
subject,  expressing  a  desire  to  replace  him  at  the  Nor- 
mal school.  The  latter,  always  ready  to  further  the 
wishes  of  his  friends,  cordially  embraced  the  propo- 
sition. 

Before  leaving  for  Italy,  where  he  was  to  spend  his 
vacation.  Ampere  had  an  interview  with  M.  Guizot, 
who  was  then  Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  and  men- 
tioned to  him  M.  Sainte-Beuve's  proposal.  He  then 
took  his  departure,  intrusting  to  a  common  friend  of 
all  three  the  care  of  continuing  the  negotiation.  There 
was  more  than  one  difficulty  in  the  way.  M.  Sainte- 
Beuve  belonged  to  the  most  advanced  wing  of  the 
republican  party.  lie  had,  moreover,  just  published 
"Volupt^,"  a  romance  which,  though  showing  much 


AND   THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  211 

talent,  did  not  precisely  entitle  its  author  to  university 
honors. 

M.  Guizot  made  very  light  of  the  obstacle  presented 
by  the  political  opinions  of  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  who  had 
himself  no  scruples  on  that  score,  and  received  with  the 
greatest  favor  the  idea  of  intrusting  to  him  a  chair  of 
instruction  in  hterature,  for  which  he  thought  him  emi- 
nently endowed.  But  he  declined  to  make  the  ap- 
pointment immediately,  lest  it  might  seem  a  reward 
for  writing  a  book  which  was  certainly  not  very  moral 
in  tone ;  he  asked  that  Ampere  should  retain  the  place 
for  the  present,  and  thus  give  the  clever  critic  time  to 
produce  another  work  more  in  keeping  with  the  dignity 
of  the  professor's  chair  than  "  Volupte." 

These  conditions  were  generously  accepted  by  Am- 
pere, who  wrote  from  Florence  to  Mme.  Lenormant :  — 

"  September  21,  1833.1 
"  What  you  tell  me,  madame,  on  the  subject  of  our 
friend  Sainte-Beuve  does  not  surprise  me.  M.  Guizot, 
who,  in  literary  and  scientific  matters,  has  never  been 
influenced  by  political  considerations,  could  not  be 
false  to  his  principles  of  generous  equity  in  the  case  of 
so  disting-uished  a  man  as  Sainte-Beuve.  From  what 
you  say,  I  infer  that  M.  Guizot  would  like  me  to  remain 
another  year  at  the  Normal  school,  during  which  time 
M.   Sainte-Beuve  is  to  write  another  book,  and  this 


1  Evidently  a  wrong;  date,  as  Sainte-Beuve  did  not  publish 
"  Volupte  "  until  1834.  See  "  Ma  Biographie,  Nouveaux  Lundis," 
vol.  xiii.  —  Tr. 


212  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPME 

arrangement  will  insure  the  nomination  of  my  friend, 
which  I  so  ardently  desire,  both  for  his  sake  and  for 
the  Normal  scliool.  —  However  weighty  the  motives 
which  have  made  me  wish  to  consecrate  myself  entirely 
to  the  broad  plan  which  I  propose  to  follow  out  at  the 
College  de  France,  and  which  I  was  not  able  to  enter 
upon  last  year,  all  personal  considerations  must  cede 
to  the  interests  of  such  a  friend  as  M.  Sainte-Beuve, 
and  of  an  establishment  like  the  Noi-mal  school,  —  that 
school  to  which  I  owe  peculiar  gratitude,  and  to  which 
my  devotion  to  M.  Cousin,  that  constant  friend  and 
promoter  of  my  university  career,  would  of  itself  suffice 
to  attach  me. 

"  It  was  only  the  feeling  that  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  remain  that  made  me  think  of  withdrawincc  from 
it.  I  hope  that  this  impossibility  Avill  be  overcome  by 
the  privileges  which  you  say,  madame,  M.  Guizot  is 
disposed  to  accord  me.  I  am  to  give  only  two  lectures 
a  week,  and  my  vacation  is  to  be  a  month  longer.  On 
these  conditions,  and  with  the  assurance  that  Sainte- 
Beuve  will  certainly  be  appointed  next  year,  I  will 
resume  my  duties  between  the  15th  and  20th  of  No- 
vember. It  will  be  necessary  to  write  to  me  at  Rome, 
if  the  matter  is  thus  arranged." 

M.  Sainte-Beuve  would  accept  of  no  postponement ; 
the  minister  endeavored  to  make  him  understand  his 
reasons  by  explaining  them  himself. 

"Will  you,  madame,"  he  wrote,  "ask  M.  Sainte- 
Beuve  to  come  to  see  me  the  day  after  to-morrow,  be- 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  213 

tween  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock.  I  will  talk  to  him  as 
best  I  can ;  and  then  if  he  will  not  accept  my  kindness, 
I  will  accept  his  humor. 

"  Many  affectionate  respects.  Guizot." 

The  irascible  and  spirituel  critic  preferred  to  give 
up  the  professorship  rather  than  consent  to  wait  six 
months.  Ampere  gave  in  his  resignation,  and  devoted 
himself  with  more  ardor  than  ever  to  his  pupils  at 
the  College  de  France ;  but,  before  his  return,  Mme. 
Recamier,  who  was  not  willing  that  Ampere  should 
torment  himself  during  his  short  journey  with  the  ne- 
gotiation that  had  been  set  on  foot,  wrote  to  him  :  — 

"  Paris,  October  15. 

"  You  have  written  me  from  Sienna  so  kind  a  letter 
that  it  has  overcome  my  indolence ;  though  I  might, 
however,  complain  of  this  prolongation  of  your  absence. 
You  write  charming  letters,  but  you  are  not  very  eager 
to  return  to  your  friends. 

"M.  Sainte-Beuve  is  in  the  country;  M.  Ballanche  is 
a  candidate  for  a  seat  in  the  Academy;  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand is  enchanted  with  the  success  of  "  Moses." 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Lenormant  return  to-day  from 
Clam  art.  I  shall  direct  this  note  to  Rome,  where  I 
hope  you  will  be  reminded  of  our  walks  and  talks.  I 
say  nothing  to  you  of  the  negotiation  for  M.  Sainte- 
Beuve  ;  I  know  how  annoying  explanations  by  letter 
often  are,  and  I  limit  myself  to  telling  you  that  you 
need  have  no  uneasiness,  and  that  every  thing  will  be 


214  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP^JRE 

arranged  satisfactorily.     Adieu;   I  am  very  impatient 
to  see  you." 


"  December  1. 

"  I  have  just  received  your  letter  from  Florence,  and 
it  makes  me  anxious.  I  entreat  you  to  take  care  of 
yourself,  and  avoid  every  kind  of  fatigue.  M.  Lenor- 
mant  says  that  you  are  working  too  hard.  Remember 
that  you  are  in  Italy  for  your  health  ;  let  that  be  your 
principal  occupation.  You  must  be  earnest  about  this, 
you  are  so  little  used  to  thinking  of  yourself;  try  to 
care  for  yourself  as  you  know  how  to  care  for  others. 
We  talk  of  you  constantly  at  our  poor  Abbaye.  You 
know  that  the  readings  -^  have  begun  again ;  fancy  how 
they  make  us  think  of  you  !  We  are  to  have  one  to- 
morrow, and  a  somewhat  larger  audience. 

"  I  have  seen  Lord  Bristol  again  after  an  interval  of 
sixteen  years.  He  was  so  overcome  by  the  memories 
which  the  Abbaye  evoked,  that  for  some  moments  he 
could  not  speak.  We  talked  of  old  times,  of  pleasant 
hours  passed  in  the  little  room  in  the  third  story  with 
his  sister,-  M.  de  Montmorency,  and  the  Duke  de  Laval. 
Sad  as  this  conversation  was,  it  was  not  without  its 
charm.  All  my  reminiscences  carry  me  back  to  that 
period  already  so  remote.  It  was  in  that  little  room 
that  I  saw  you  for  the  first  time.  Give  a  thought  to 
me   in   the   places   we  visited  together,  and  let  that 

1  Of  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  "Me'moires." 

2  Duchess  of  Devonshire,  n^e  Lady  Ehzabeth  Hervey  j  by  her 
first  marriage,  Lady  Foster. 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  215 

thought  recall  my  counsels,  for  I  finish  as  I  have  begun, 
by  begging  you  to  take  care  of  your  health.  Adieu  ; 
I  am  anxiously  expecting  to  hear  from  you  fi'om 
Rome." 

But  while  absorbed  in  the  labor  and  siiccess  of  teach- 
ing, our  friend  was  threatened  with  a  misfortune  which 
his  filial  love  made  him  try  to  think  impossible.  In 
vain  for  six  years  had  he  lavished  upon  his  father  the 
most  assiduous  care;  the  chronic  laryngitis  with  which 
the  illustrious  savant  was  afflicted,  though  somewhat 
checked,  was  not  subdued.  It  had  been  arranged,  it  is 
true,  that  the  tours  of  inspection  which  he  made  for  the 
university  should  take  him  always  toward  the  South 
of  France ;  he  passed  a  whole  year  in  Provence  with 
his  son,  before  the  latter  was  retained  in  Paris  by  his 
public  duties,  but  the  malady  was  gaining  ground ; 
long  before  he  had  attained  his  sixtieth  year  the  illus- 
trious academician  bore  the  marks  of  decrepitude. 
With  his  emaciated  and  stooj^ing  form,  dimmed  eye,  and 
drooping  lip,  he  looked  eighty  years  old.  In  spite  of 
this  physical  decay,  his  mental  vigor  continued  unim- 
paired. Every  question  of  general  interest  discussed 
in  his  hearing  still  captivated  and  stimulated  his  pow- 
erful mind.  I  remember  listening  to  a  conversation 
in  which  Charles  Lenormant,  recently  returned  from 
Egypt,  explained  to  him  the  discovery  of  the  method 
of  reading  hieroglyphics,  and  how  he  had  seen  it  ap- 
plied by  Champollion  to  all  the  monuments  of  the 
Pharaohs.    Transported  with  admiration,  the  dying  old 


216  JEAN-.TACQUES  AMPJIJRE 

man  of  an  hour  before  recovered  his  life  again  as  he 
listened  to  these  marvels  accomplished  by  the  genius 
of  another  man.  It  was  truly  a  beautiful  and  noble 
spectacle.  —  Andre-Marie  Ampdre  died  at  Marseilles 
June  10th,  1836. 

His  son's  grief  for  his  loss  was  deep  and  lasting. 
He  had  had  for  his  father  while  he  lived  an  ardent 
admiration,  and  now  that  he  was  dead  he  worshipped 
his  memory.  The  three  volumes  of  "  L'Histoire  Lit- 
teraire  de  la  France,"  published  in  1839,  he  dedicated 
to  him.  In  this  affecting  dedication,  after  enumerating 
Andre  Ampere's  claims  to  imperishable  fame,  he  ends 
with  these  words :  "  A  true  Christian,  he  loved  human- 
ity.    He  was  good,  simple,  and  great." 

Henceforward  we  are  to  see  J.-J.  Ampere  giving 
himself  up  much  more  unreservedly  to  his  passion  for 
travel.  In  one  of  his  prefaces  he  propounds  the  theory 
which  he  calls  la  critique  en  voyage.  We  always 
make  a  theory  to  justify  our  prevailing  passion.  "  I  am 
far  from  thinking,"  he  says,  "that  it  is  necessary  to 
visit  a  country  in  order  to  understand  and  enjoy  the 
literature  that  country  has  produced,  or  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  appreciate  Pindar  and  Isaiah  without  hav- 
ing made  the  journey  to  Athens  and  Jerusalem.  We 
can,  without  leaving  our  library,  study  the  masterpieces, 
of  poetry,  but  there  will  be  always  something  wanting 
to  this  study  as  long  as  we  have  not  visited  the  coun- 
ti'ics  where  the  great  writers  lived,  contemplated  the 
scenery  which  moulded  them,  and  recognized  their 
soul,  so  to  speak,  in  the  regions  still  stamped  with  their 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  217 

impress.     How  can  we  understand  their  coloring  if  we 
have  never  seen  their  sun  ?  " 

In  Sejitember  of  1838,  Ampere,  in  company  with  Ch. 
Lenormant  and  another  eminent  archaeologist,  Jean  de 
Witte,  made  what  they  called  their  voyage  Dantesque; 
in  other  words.  Ampere  and  his  two  companions,  the 
"Divina  Commedia"  in  hand,  traversed  Tuscany  and 
L6mbardy,  following  from  city  to  city,  or  indeed  step  by 
step,  the  traces  of  the  great  Florentine  poet.  Shortly 
after.  Ampere  made  another  and  more  complete  excur- 
sion of  this  sort,  in  company  with  the  Marquis  Capponi, 
a  noble  and  patriotic  Tuscan,  for  whom  he  had  the 
greatest  respect  and  friendship.  The  result  of  these  re- 
searches, as  minute  as  they  were  enthusiastic,  was  a 
work  of  the  highest  interest.  A  keen  appreciation  of 
the  poetical  beauties  of  the  poem,  intermingled  with 
historical  explanations,  the  study  of  manners  and  char- 
acter, the  description  of  places,  gives  to  this  commentary 
on  the  great  epic  of  Dante  much  variety  and  animation. 

This  voyage  Dantesque,  which  Ampere  afterward 
included  in  what  he  very  properly  called  "  literary 
studies  from  nature,"  was  first  published  separately, 
and  met  with  a  singular  fate.  Deservedly  successful  in 
France,  a  German  did  it  the  honor  to  translate  and 
publish  it  under  his  own  name,  adding  to  the  title,  it  is 
true,  as  a  salve  to  his  conscience,  "  In  the  footprints  of 
M..  Ampere."  An  Italian,  leaving  out  this  addition, 
which  appeared  to  him  of  no  importance,  translated  the 
German  translation ;  and  in  the  endeavor  to  penetrate 
the  p>ieudonyme  which  hid  the  writer,  succeeded  in 
10 


218  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£RE 

proving  conclusively  that  it  was  the  work  of  Prince 
John,  afterward  King  of  Saxony,  author  of  several 
highly  esteemed  works  on  Dante.  To  appropriate  to 
themselves  provinces  is  the  pastime  of  kings,  to  ap- 
propriate a  literary  work  is  a  rare  exercise  of  the 
royal  prerogative ;  and  Ampere  gaily  exclaims,  in  the 
preface  to  his  third  edition,  "  The  opinion  which  at- 
tributes my  book  to  a  royal  personage  is  highly  flatter- 
ing to  me,  and  is  based  upon  excellent  reasons;  but, 
strong  in  my  own  identity,  I  protest  that  I  am  not  the 
King  of  Saxony." 

"We  cannot  with  impunity  dwell  in  those  favored 
climes  where  the  sun  reigns  supreme.  Ampere,  whose 
youthful  imagination  had  been  captivated  by  the  sombre 
poesy  of  the  North,  now  felt  the  force  of  that  attraction 
which  has  ever  drawn  the  northern  races  southward. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  letters  Avhich  passed 
between  him  and  Ch.  Lenormant,  the  latter  rallied  him 
upon  his  Germanic  preferences,  and  preached  to  him 
eclecticism.  The  conversion  was  thorough,  and  year 
after  year  found  the  studious  professor  of  the  College 
de  France  again  in  Italy. 

In  1841,  it  was  toward  the  Orient  that  he  turned  his 
steps,  in  company  with  Prosper  Merimee,  de  Witte, 
and  Ch.  Lenormant.  It  may  be  doubted  if  ever  there 
were  a  party  of  friends  whose  companionship  promised 
to  be  more  pleasant  and  profitable  than  that  of  these 
four.  All  were  deeply  versed  in  ancient  lore,  all  were 
lovers  of  the  beautiful,  and  consequently  quick  to  ap- 
preciate the  masterpieces  of  Greek  art,  all  were  young 


AND   THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  219 

and  fond  of  adventure.  Ampere  was  never  more  agree- 
able than  while  travelling;  his  inexhaustible  spirits, 
his  good  humor,  seemed  to  rise  higher  with  the  thousand 
accidents  inseijarable  from  an  excursion  in  a  country 
where  civilization  had  scarcely  begun  to  revive.  Ch. 
Leuormant  was  the  only  one  of  the  four  who  had 
already  visited  Greece.  After  accompanying  Cham- 
pollion  to  Egypt,  he  had  taken  part  in  an  expedition  to 
the  Morea;  but  at  that  time,  1829,  Athens  was  still 
under  Turkish  control.  For  him,  therefore,  as  well  as 
for  his  companions,  the  beauties  of  the  Parthenon  were 
a  surprise  and  a  revelation ;  for  no  drawing,  no  de- 
scription can  prepare  the  beholder  for  the  matchless 
effect  produced  by  the  temple  of  Minerva,  lighted  up 
by  the  magical  splendor  of  the  Eastern  sunlight,  and  in 
perfect  harmony  with  all  surrounding  objects. 

After  a  careful  exploration  of  the  monuments  of 
Greece  proper.  Ampere  and  Merimee  left  their  com- 
panions, whom  they  were  shortly  to  join  again  at  Con- 
stantinople, and  made  a  rapid  journey  through  Asia- 
Minor.  Under  the  form  of  a  letter  to  Sainte-Beuve, 
Ampere  published  an  interesting  narrative  of  his  jour- 
ney. 

It  was  in  1842,  the  year  following  his  tour  in  the 
East,  that  Ampere  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Aca- 
demie  des  Inscriptions,  taking  the  place  of  M.  De- 
gerando.  He  had  won  this  distinction  by  his  works  on 
the  sources  of  French  literature  and  the  formation  of 
the  language. 

The  insatiable  desire,  inherited  from  his  father,  to 


220  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

learn,  know,  and  understand  every  thing,  led  Ampere, 
as  I  have  said,  into  the  greatest  diversity  of  studies ; 
but  this  exei'cise  of  his  prodigious  activity  did  not  in 
the  least  impair  the  warmth  of  his  affections.  On  the 
contrary,  he  was  easily  influenced  by  his  friends,  and 
gave  himself,  as  it  were,  without  reserve  to  those  whom 
he  loved.  One  man  more  than  all  others  exercised 
over  him  the  ascendancy  of  an  earnest  friendship.  This 
was  Alexis  de  Tocqueville. 

To  give  an  account  of  the  origin  of  this  intimacy,  I 
must  retrace  my  steps  a  little. 

Alexis  de  Tocqueville  was  presented  to  Mme.  Re- 
camier  by  his  relative,  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  during  the 
winter  of  1836,  a  few  months  after  the  publication  of 
"  Democracy  in  America."  The  sensation  produced  in 
the  literary  and  political  world  by  this  admirable  work 
is  not  yet  forgotten.  M.  de  Chateaubriand  was  de- 
lighted with  the  unprecedented  success  achieved  by 
his  young  relative  at  the  outset  of  his  literary  career, 
and  was  furthermore  gratified  that  a  nobleman  could 
so  well  handle  a  pen.  The  aristocratic  distinction  of 
De  Tocqueville's  manners,  the  elegance  which  tempered 
their  somewhat  cold  reserve;  the  breadth  and  eleva- 
tion of  his  mind,  in  which  great  firmness  was  allied  to 
much  finesse  ;  in  short,  every  thing  about  him,  even  to 
his  very  liberal  and  almost  republican  ojiinions,  was 
pleasing  to  M.  de  Chateaubriand. 

Ampere  met  De  Tocqueville  for  the  first  time  at  the 
Abbaye,  and  immediately  conceived  for  him  one  of  his 
enthusiastic  and  devoted  attaciiments.     The  attraction 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  221 

was  reciprocal,  and  the  "absolute  conformity  of  their 
opinions  continually  strengthened  and  increased  this 
mutual  sympathy.  Ampere,  even  before  he  knew  De 
Tocqueville,  claimed  some  friends  in  common  with 
him.  These  friendships  had  for  the  most  part  been 
contracted  in  the  salon  of  General  de  Lafayette,  about 
the  time  the  illustrious  champion  of  liberty  returned 
from  the  visit  he  made  to  America  in  1824.  This  visit, 
as  is  well  known,  was  a  triumphal  march.  The  grate- 
ful Americans,  in  their  welcome  to  the  brother-in- arms 
of  Washington,  exhausted  every  form  of  enthusiasm. 
Am23ere  had  been  deeply  moved  by  the  reports  of  this 
uprising  of  a  whole  nation.  Immediately  on  the  gen- 
eral's return  to  France  he  sought  an  introduction  to 
him;  and  in  the  autumn  of  1826,  profiting  by  the  invita- 
tion which  had  been  kindly  given  him,  he  passed  sev- 
eral days  at  La  Grange. 

Singular  and  striking  were  the  contrasts  presented 
by  this  old  feudal  chateau,  inhabited  by  the  only  repub- 
lican in  France,  the  shrine  to  which  every  American 
made  a  pious  pilgrimage,  and,  too  often  also,  the  place 
where  the  enemies  of  the  house  of  Bourbon  met  to  con- 
trive their  plots  ;  nor  were  the  figures  that  animated 
the  scene  less  remarkable  in  themselves. 

The  family  of  M.  de  Lafayette,  like  the  general  him- 
self, maintained  all  the  traditions,  all  the  elegant 
habits  of  the  old  regime.  A  charming  bevy  of  young 
girls,  granddaughters  and  grandnieces,  gathered  around 
the  staunch  old  veteran  of  the  jDrinciples  of  1789. 
Among  his   sons,  sons-in-law,  grandsons,  and   grand- 


222  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

nephews,  were  rare  and  brilliant  minds.  The  heroic 
soul  of  the  prisoner  of  Olmtitz  seemed  still  to  hover 
over  her  daughters  and  insj^ire  their  Christian  virtues. 
Crowds  of  strangers  from  all  points  of  the  globe,  inces- 
santly coming  and  going,  and  at  times  also  the  ignoble 
apparition  of  some  low-born  conspirator,  served  to 
complete  the  picture  of  this  unique  household. 

To  Ampere,  who  had  a  marvellous  gift  of  descrip- 
tion, all  this  was  delightful.  The  cordial  welcome  he 
received  made  him  a  frequent  visitor  at  La  Grange, 
where  he  formed  more  than  one  enduring  friendship. 
It  was  there  he  became  acquainted  with  Gustave  de 
Beaumont,  who  was  to  be  the  worthy  and  faithful 
companion  of.Alexis  de  Tocqueville  in  his  American 
travels,  with  Charles  de  Remusat,  with  M.  de  Corcelles, 
whose  name,  dear  to  liberty,  is  not  less  dear  to  the 
church,  and  with  whom,  as  well  as  with  Gustave  de 
Beaumont,  he  became  more  and  more  intimate  through 
the  strong  attachment  all  three  bore  to  their  common 
friend. 

While  De  Tocqueville  was  engaged  on  the  second 
part  of  his  book,  he  took  possession  of  the  estate  near 
Cherbourg  which  bears  his  name.  There,  toward  the 
last  of  August,  1889,  Ampere  paid  him  a  visit,  and 
found  him  in  the  midst  of  his  double  duties  as  author 
and  pi'oprietor.  He  had  scarcely  quitted  him  when  De 
Tocqueville  wrote :  — 

"  September  17,  1839. 

"  Your  letter,  my  dear  friend,  has  given  us  the  great- 
est pleasure.     I  say  us,  because  my  wife  was  quite  aa 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  223 

anxious  as  I  that  you  should  find  yourself  tolerably 
comfortable  in  our  dilapidated  mansion,  and  she  has 
received  with  as  much  satisfaction  as  myself  the  kind 
assurances  you  give  us  of  the  pleasure  your  visit  afibrded 
you.  A  man  must  needs  be  well  off  with  people  wdio 
watch  his  coming  with  the  greatest  joy  and  feel  at  his 
departure  the  liveliest  regret.  Good  friends  are  rarer 
than  good  lodgings.  I  trust  this  is  what  you  some- 
times said  to  yourself  when  the  blows  of  the  pickaxe 
and  hammer  sounded  in  your  ears.  As  for  ourselves, 
we  retain  most  agreeable  recollections  of  your  short 
visit,  and  all  we  ask  is  that  you  should  come  again 
soon.  What  you  tell  me  of  my  book  makes  me  very 
happy.  You  would  not  hide  from  me  the  truth;  I 
therefore  believe  you,  and  I  shall  read  over  what  you  say 
whenever  I  have  one  of  my  attacks  of  spleen.  In  this 
respect  your  presence  here  had  already  done  me  much 
good.  You  appeared  so  pleased  with  what  you  read, 
that  it  gave  me  courage.  I  have  not  forgotten  your 
promise  to  revise  my  manuscript.  I  cannot  express  to 
you,  my  dear  friend,  how  grateful  I  am  for  the  trouble 
you  consent  to  take. 

"  I  have  been  in  great  perplexity  this  morning ;  in  look- 
ing over  a  very  important  chapter  on  the  way  in  which 
democracy  modifies  the  relations  of  servant  and  master^ 
I  fell  upon  a  long  section  relating  to  the  character  of 
domestic  service  in  aristocratic  ages.  I  think  my  ideas 
are  right  on  this  point,  the  expression  of  them  only 
seems  too  theoretical;  I  ought  to  have  two  or  three 
examples  drawn  from  authors  of  the  period,  but  I  have 


224  JEA N-JA  CQ  UES  A MPiJRE 

none  to  give,  —  though  I  have  an  impression  that  I  have 
met  "with  a  great  number  of  them  from  Froissart  to  Mme. 
de  S^vigne.  If  your  memory  furnish  you  with  any,  point 
them  out  to  me,  I  beg  of  you.  What  I  should  like, 
above  all,  to  make  understood  is  that  which  happened 
often  in  the  aristocratic  periods,  when  servants  merged, 
so  to  speak,  their  own  personality  in  that  of  their  master, 
and  prided  themselves  more  on  his  advantages  than  on 
their  own.  Caleb,  in  '  The  Bride  of  Lammermoor,'  is 
the  ideal  of  this  character,  but  I  do  not  remember  any 
historical  counterpart. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  friend,  for  thus  persecuting 
you  with  my  own  affairs.  I  have  no  fear  in  so  doing, 
for  I  feel  that  I  interest  myself  deeply  in  all  that  con- 
cerns you,  which  emboldens  me  to  think  that  you  will 
readily  take  part  in  every  thing  which  occupies  'me. 
Adieu ;  I  embrace  you  with  all  my  heart." 

In  a  letter  of  nearly  two  years'  later  date,  written 
after  De  Tocqueville's  return  from  his  fatiguing  jour- 
ney in  Algeria, —  a  journey  which  seriously  impaired 
his  already  delicate  health,  —  are  several  passages  which 
seem  to  portray  admirably  the  affectionate  relations 
between  the  friends. 

"  TocQUEViLLE,  July  5,  1841. 

"  Tou  take  so  lively  and  so  truly  friendly  an  interest 
in  the  state  of  my  health,  that  it  is  only  right  that  you 
should  be  one  of  the  fii'st  to  hear  from  me. 

"  I  hasten,  therefore,  to  tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  that 


^iND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  225 

my  journey  did  me  not  the  slightest  harm.  Precisely 
twenty-four  hours  after  leaving  Paris  I  sat  down  to 
ray  own  table  at  Tocqueville.  When  you  can  com- 
mand a  few  days,  remember  that  there  is  one  spot 
where  you  will  be  sure  of  finding  true  friends  who  will 
be  honestly  glad  to  see  you,  and  do  not  hesitate  to 
come.  Do  not  do  hke  those  people  who,  always  desir- 
ous to  do  every  thing  too  well,  end  by  not  doing  any 
thing  at  all.  Do  not  reserve  yourself  wholly  for  that 
time  when  you  will  be  able  to  come  and  pass  months 
with  us;  give  us  meanwhile  the  weeks  that  fall  in  your 
way.  In  this  matter  we  shall  accept  every  thing  with 
gratitude.  That  famous  room  you  have  heard  so  much 
about,  in  which  you  are  never  to  hear  the  sli^-htest 
noise,  is  at  last  almost  ready.  It  shall  be  '  Ampere's 
room,'  even  when  occupied  by  another,  so  that  no  one 
else  shall  acquire  a  prescriptive  right  to  it,  as  the  law- 
yers say. 

•'  I  cannot  tell  you,  my  dear  friend,  what  a  charm 
there  is  for  me  in  my  present  mode  of  life.  It  is 
owing,  I  think,  to  a  general  cause  ;  namely,  my  con- 
stantly increasing  experience  of  the  conflicts  of  the 
world,  and  also  to  an  accidental  one,  —  the  agitated  and 
fatiguing  life  I  have  lately  led.  The  contrast  between 
the  tumult  and  bustle  of  those  days  and  the  silence 
and  repose  of  these,  give  to  the  latter  a  sense  of  vivid 
delight  which  rightfully  is  not  theirs.  Such  passionate 
enjoyment  of  quiet  denotes  a  mind  still  agitated;  and 
this  is  my  case. 

"Now,  see  the  incredible  absurdity  of  human  nature. 
10*  o 


226  JEAN-JA  CQ  UES  A  MP^RE 

Ask  this  very  contented  man  if  he  would  always  remain 
in  this  state  which  so  transports  him,  and  he  will 
answer,  no,  certainly  not ;  and  after  sayiug  such  fine 
things  about  the  charms  of  solitude  and  tranquillity,  lie 
would  consider  himself  much  to  be  pitied  could  he  never 
plunge  again  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  mingle  in 
the  tumult  and  the  crowd,  in  political  animosities,  lit- 
erary rivalries,  legislative  chambers,  academies,  —  play 
his  part,  in  short,  on  the  great  stage  of  the  world,  which 
he  was  so  rejoiced  to  quit.  But  I  am  running  into 
philosophy.  To  escape  that  peril,  I  embrace  you  with 
all  my  heart  and  bid  you  good-by.  I  need  not  ask  you 
to  remember  me  particularly  to  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
and  our  good  friend  Ballanche,  an,d,  above  all,  to  Mme. 
Recamier,  to  whom  I  was  prevented  by  my  last  attack 
of  fever  from  saying  good-by." 

Among  the  young  celebrities  who,  between  1838  and 
1840,  made  their  apj^earance  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois, 
Frederick  Ozanam  must  not  be  forgotten.  He  had 
already,  seven  years  before,  been  j^resented  by  Ampere 
to  Mme.  Recamier  and  M.  de  Chateaubriand,  who  had 
both  begged  him  to  make  his  visits  frequent.  He  then 
declined  the  honor,  but  presented  himself  anew  at  the 
expiration  of  the  time  he  had  himself  fixed  for  achiev- 
ing a  reputation.  Notwithstanding  the  disparity  in 
their  ages,  Ampere  attached  himself  eagerly  to  Ozanam. 
His  affection  for  him  was  almost  paternal  in  its  char- 
acter, and  made  up  of  both  love  and  respect.  He  sur- 
vived this  young  and  saint-like  friend,  to  whom  he  paid 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  227 

a  last  tribute  of  regard  wbicli  is  wortliy  of  riicntion.^ 
Among  those  who  gave  expression  to  the  public  regi-et 
at  the  grave  of  Ozanam,  —  and  they  included  the  most 
illustrious  of  his  contemporaries,  —  no  one  spoke  of  him 
more  affectingly  or  with  deeper  feeling  than  Ampere. 
The  allusion  to  his  celebrated  father  in  the  eulogy  of 
his  friend  is  peculiarly  touching.  He  thus  expresses 
himself:  "  Sent  to  Paris  to  study  law,  Ozanam  had 
the  good  fortune,  which  he  always  appreciated,  and 
loved  to  thank  God  for,  to  pass  two  years  under  my 
father's  roof  From  this  time,  1831,  dates  the  begin- 
ning of  our  fraternal  intercourse.  I  have  ever  watched 
with  the  tenderest  care  over  this  young  friend,  advising 
him  as  best  I  could,  and  striving  to  moderate  his  ex- 
cessive love  of  study;  loving  him  for  his  boyish  warmth 
of  heart,  and — I  Avill  spenk  as  I  feel  —  inspired  with 
respect  by  his  virtues." 

But  let  us  revert  to  the  literary  laboi's  of  Ampere. 
After  his  return  from  his  journey  in  Greece  and  Asia 
Minor,  and  while  occupying  the  chair  of  French  litera- 
ture, and  publishing  at  the  same  time  his  studies  of 
Greek  literature,  he  was  seized  by  one  of  his  irresistible 
fancies.  This  time  it  was  Chinese  that  was  the  object 
of  his  scientific  caprice.  Ten  years  before  he  had 
studied  the  language  with  Abel  Remusat,  and  put  into 
verse  a  romance  of  the  Celestial  Empire ;  now  it  was 
the  philosophy  of  Lao-Tse  that  he  took  upon  himself 
to  explain,  examining,  in  some  clever  articles  published 

1  Articles  in  tlie  "Journal  des  Debats  "  of  the  9th  and  12tb 
October,  1853 


228  JEAN-,rACQUES  AMPJbJRE 

in  the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,"  Stanislas  Julien's 
translation  of  the  works  of  the  celebrated  founder  of 
the  sect  of  tlie  Tao-Sse.  The  transition  from  Chinese 
characters  to  Egyptian  hieroglyphics  is  very  natural ; 
by  studying  the  first  of  these  systems  of  writing  he 
became  interested  in  the  other.  However,  as  he  was 
already  intimate  with  Klaproth,  and  imbued  with  his 
prejudices,  he  ranged  himself  at  first  among  the  deti'act- 
ors  of  Champollion.  Where  is  the  discoverer  who  has 
not  seen  the  truth  it  was  his  mission  to  reveal  to  the 
world  denied  ?  Through  the  generosity  of  Charles  X., 
Champollion  was  able  to  visit  the  banks  of  the  Nile, 
and  study  on  the  spot  the  great  monuments  of  the 
Pharaohs;  but  even  after  the  decisive  proof  of  the 
worth  of  his  system  furnished  by  the  results  of  this 
exploration,  and  even  also  after  the  publication  of  his 
grammar  and  dictionary,  there  were  learned  men  who 
still  contested  the  truth  of  his  discovery.  Charles 
Lenormant,  an  early  disciple  of  Cham2:)ollion,  who  ac- 
companied him  on  his  exjsedition,  and  afterward  suc- 
ceeded him  as  professor  at  the  College  de  France, 
vainly  tried  to  make  Ampere  appreciate  more  justly 
the  labors  of  his  master;  the  frequent  and  animated 
discussions  which  occui-red  between  the  two  friends 
failed  to  convince  the  sceptic.  After  exhausting  every 
argument,  Lenormant  finally  said  to  him :  "  You  are 
talking  of  a  matter  you  have  never  examined  ex- 
perimentally for  yourself;  lay  aside  theories  that  are 
not  your  own ;  here  are  the  grammar  and  dictionary, 
study  them;  I  am  confident  of  the  result."     Ampere 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  229 

took  the  tools  provided  by  the  genius  of  Charapollion 
for  the  help  of  learners,  and,  applying  himself  to  the 
study  of  them  with  his  usual  ardor  and  acuteness,  was 
soon  able  to  read  the  hieroglyphic  characters.  This 
anecdote  is  an  illustration  of  his  admirable  sincerity  in 
matters  pertaining  to  learning,  as  well  as  the  impetu- 
osity with  which  he  pursued  his  literary  investigations. 
Once  convinced  of  the  truth  of  that  which  he  had 
doubted,  Ampei-e  thought  only  of  applying  his  knowl- 
edge. 

Full  of  this  idea,  he  resolved  to  set  out  for  Egypt ; 
"  that  country,"  he  said,  "  which  awakens  all  the  grand 
memories  of  the  past,  whose  present  and  whose  future 
still  interest  us,  and  which  deserves  to  engage  the  at- 
tention of  the  world  for  ever.  At  the  very  beginning 
of  all  tradition  in  Judea  and  Greece,  we  descry  Egypt. 
Moses  came  out  thence,  thither  went  Plato  ;  she  drew 
to  herself  the  thought  and  the  tomb  of  Alexander; 
toward  her  tended  the  piety  of  Saint  Louis,  the  fortunes 
of  Bonaparte." 

From  M.  Villemain,  then  minister  of  Public  Instruc- 
tion, Ampere  received  most  kind  assistance  in  carrying 
out  his  plans.  He  was  able  to  secure  as  his  fellow- 
traveller  the  man  of  his  choice,  M.  Paul  Durand,  a  fine 
scholar,  who  was,  at  the  same  time,  physician,  draughts- 
man, and  archaeologist.  Ampere  set  out  in  the  middle 
of  the  summer  of  1844.  He  expected  to  meet,  and  did 
meet,  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  the  great  scientific  ex- 
pedition despatched  by  the  King  of  Prussia,  at  the  head 
of  which  was  an  eminent  Egyptian  scholar,  M.  Lepsius. 


230  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPP.RE 

Egypt  was  still  under  the  government  of  Meliemet- 
Ali,  that  most  able  adventurer,  who  exterminated  the 
Mamelukes,  and  conquered  Syria,  where  he  treated  the 
Christian  population  during  his  short  administration 
with  equity,  though  governing  his  Egyptian  subjects 
with  a  rod  of  iron.  Ampere  was  presented  to  the 
viceroy  by  M.  Benedetti,  French  consul  at  Cairo,  to 
whom  he  brousjht  a  letter  from  Reschid-Pacha.  The 
following  is  his  account  of  his  interview  with  the  cele- 
brated despot :  — 

"  Mehemet-Ali  is  a  very  hale  old  man ;  he  was 
standing  when  we  entered,  and  seemed  very  firm  on 
his  legs.  He  spri\ng  lightly  iipon  the  tolerably  high 
divan,  where  he  squatted,  and  we  took  our  places  be- 
side him.  He  did  not  strike  me  as  very  distingue  in 
appearance,  but  very  intelligent,  and  he  has  not  the 
slightest  expression  of  ferocity.  Our  interview  was 
marked  by  one  incident  only  of  any  significance.  The 
pacha  invited  me  to  inspect  his  Polytechnic  school ;  I 
replied  that  my  father  would  have  proved  himself  most 
worthy  of  an  honor  that  I  did  not  merit,  and  begged 
his  highness  to  permit  me  to  decline  a  task  for  which 
my  studies  had  not  fitted  me.  His  highness  was  un- 
willing to  give  up  the  point.  '  What  the  father  could 
do,  the  son  should  be  able  to  do,'  he  said.  Unfortu- 
nately I  knew  too  well  the  limit  of  my  abilities.  I 
was  obliged  to  oppose,  with  respectful  firmness,  the 
well-meant  persistence  of  the  viceroy,  in  order  to  avoid 
making  myself  ridiculous  by  examining,  ou  matters  I 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  281 

-"lo  not  understand,  the  pupils  and  professors  of  the 
school  under  the  du'ection  of  M.  Lambert.  But  though 
I  did  not  yield  to  Mehemet-Ali,  I  had  not  the  satisfaction 
of  convincius:  him.  I  mention  this  little  occurrence, 
because  it  illustrates  a  characteristic  common  to  all 
oriental  governments.  They  all,  in  fact,  including  even 
the  reformatory  government  of  Egypt,  are  convinced 
that  every  man,  and  especially  every  European,  is  fit  to 
do  any  thing.  Mehemet-Ali  understands  Arabic  very 
imperfectly,  and  disdains  to  speak  it.  He  is  a  Turk, 
who  speaks  Turkish,  and  governs  through  the  Turks." 

Friends  in  France,  and  especially  the  guiding  spirit 
of  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  were  not  forgotten  on  the  bark 
which  bore  our  traveller  towai'd  the  second  cataract. 
He  wrote  to  Mme.  Recamier :  — 

"  Cairo,  December  19,  1844. 

"  Behold  me  really  in  Egypt,  madame ;  yes,  here  I 
am,  in  what  is,  perhaps,  the  most  remarkable  city  of 
the  East;  and  I  take  pleasure  in  addressing  a  letter 
from  this  place  to  you,  who  have  been  so  often  in  my 
thoughts  in  such  widely  diflferent  places.  Beneath  the 
palm-trees  of  the  Nile,  just  the  same  as  when  I  was 
younger  among  the  pines  of  Norway,  do  I  love  to  bear 
your  image  with  me,  and  dedicate  to  you  my  first  im- 
jjressions  of  the  extraordinary  country  I  am  now  visit- 
ing.^   Cairo ;  the  Pyramids,  that  I  see  from  my  window ; 

1  It  is  interesting  to  recall  the  fact  that  at  this  time  Mme.  11^- 
camier  was  an  old  lady  of  sixty-seven.  —  Tb. 


232  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

Heliopolis,  where  I  went  yesterday;  visions  of  the 
temples  close  at  hand ;  palra-trees,  camels,  minarets,  — 
all  lighted  nj)  by  the  soft  radiance  of  a  sun  like  om's  in 
early  June,  compose  a  ravishing  picture.  And  this  is 
only  the  portal  of  that  Egypt  where  so  many  marvels 
to  be  seen  and  deciphered  await  me. 

"  I  have  already  worked  hard  among  the  collections 
in  Rome  and  Naples ;  I  merely  passed  through  Alex- 
andria, but  here  I  have  found  already  many  things. 
We  shall  start  in  a  few  days,  so  as  to  reach  as  soon 
as  possible  Thebes  and  Upper  Egypt.  I  earnestly  trust 
that  I  shall  receive  before  my  departure  a  letter  from 
M.  David,  which  will  give  me  news  of  you.  You  have 
had  a  return  of  neuralgia,  in  consequence  of  staying 
too  long  in  a  spot  where  I  followed  you  in  spirit. 
You  promised  me  not  to  expose  yourself  again  in  this 
way.  Consider  the  feelings  of  absent  friends,  and  so 
conduct  yourself  that  they  shall  have  good  reports  of 
you ;  they  have  great  need  of  them,  that  they  may  not 
feel  even  further  off  and  more  widely  separated. 

"  Happily,  thanks  to  the  steamer,  I  am  only  a  fort- 
night from  Paris.  How  glad  I  shall  be  to  find  my- 
self there  again  in  the  spring !  That  thought  makes 
me  press  on,  for  every  step  that  I  make  forward  brings 
me  the  sooner  back.  We  have  been  presented  to 
Mehemet-Ali,  who  was  in  a  very  good  humor ;  he 
seems  to  be  in  excellent  health.  After  we  have  visited 
the  Pyramids,  and  explored  Cairo  and  its  environs  a 
little,  we  shall  proceed  in  our  boat  to  Thebes  and 
Upper  Egypt,   where  I  hope    to   have  more  letters. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  233 

But  I  fear  they  will  come  a  little  irregularly,  and  that 
the  same  will  be  the  case  with  those  I  write  ;  this  is  the 
cruel  side  of  this  journey.  However,  there  is  now  a 
chance  of  receiving  and  sending  letters,  which  several 
years  ago  there  was  not.  I  have  already  seen  on  the 
Nile  some  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  birds,  and  I  shall 
write  to  him  about  them  when  I  have  seen  them  amonsr 
the  ruins.  I  have  executed  M.  Lenorraant's  commis- 
sions. I  feel  assured  that  his  course  of  lectures  is 
going  on  finely  in  every  respect.  Soliman-Pacha  ^  has 
been  so  kind  to  me  that  I  am  really  touched  by  it.  He 
reminded  me  in  the  pleasantest  way  that  he  had  been 
a  pupil  of  my  father.  He  has  been  everywhere  recalled 
to  me  here.  Adieu,  madame;  M.  Ballanche  has  written 
me  a  kind  letter,  for  which  I  thank  him.  Adieu,  again, 
very  affectionately." 

Those  beautiful  Egyptian  nights,  so  well  described  m 
verse  by  Ampere,  came  near  costing  him  his  life,  for 
he  neglected  all  precautions.  After  passing  the  whole 
day,  like  a  true  savant^  copying  inscriptions  under  a 
burning  sun,  he  liked  nothing  better  than  to  spend  the 
night  lying  on  the  deck  of  his  boat,  enjoying  the  cool 
air,  either  indulging  in  reverie  or  composing  verses.  In 
an  Eastern  climate  one  pays  dearly  for  such  reckless 
impi-udence.  Our  friend  was  seized  with  a  most  violent 
attack  of  dysentery,  and  yet,  nevertheless,  he  insisted 


1  Soliman-Pacha  (Selves),  major-general  in  the  Egyptian  army, 
was  a  native  of  Lyons,  and  had  known  Ampere,  the  mathema- 
tician. 


234  JEAN-JACQUE.-^  AMPJ^RE 

upon  continuing  his  journey,  and  ascended  the  Nile  as 
far  as  the  second  cataract. 

His  travelling  companion,  M.  Durand,  who  had  vainly 
counselled  him  to  be  prudent,  succeeded  too  late  in 
inducing  him  to  submit  to  his  care,  both  as  friend  and 
physician.  He  brought  the  sick  man,  not  without  diffi- 
culty, back  to  Marseilles,  where  his  illness  and  Aveak 
condition  obliged  him  to  remain  several  weeks.  All 
the  letters  addressed  to  Ampere  by  his  friends  at  the 
Abbaye-aux-Bois  are  full  of  the  deepest  anxiety.  Mme. 
Recamier  wrote  to  him  June  1,  1845 :  — 

"  3fo?i  Dieu  /  how  your  last  letter  to  M.  Ballanche 
alarms  me !  How  sad  to  feel  that  you  are  thus  de- 
tained far  from  your  friends  at  the  very  time  they  were 
so  joyfully  expecting  you !  I  unite  with  M.  Ballanche 
in  recommending  the  greatest  prudence  and  greatest 
care  of  your  health ;  I  beseech  you  also  to  let  us  hear 
from  you  much  more  frequently ;  we  should  like  to 
have  a  line  by  every  mail,  one  line  only,  so  as  not  to 
fxtigue  you  too  much.  I  rely  upon  you,  upon  your 
friendship,  to  spare  me  anxieties  which  would  be  hard 
to  bear.  Ah,  mon  Dieu!  how  many  things  I  have  to 
say  to  you,  to  ask  you ;  and  when  shall  we  be  all  to- 
gether again  ?  " 

A  few  days  afterward  the  good  Ballanche  took  up 

the  pen : — 

"June  12,  1845. 

"  My  very  dear  friend,"  he  said,  "  we  were  greatly  in 
need  of  your  letter  to  Mme.  Recamier ;  we  were  all  in 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  235 

deep  distress,  and  it  is  easy  to  understand  why :  we  all 
went  about  in  search  of  news,  for  we  knew  how  neces- 
sary careful  treatment  is  in  these  climatic  maladies ; 
besides,  Ave  were  afraid  that  the  vexation  of  being  ban- 
ished far  from  all  your  friends  might  still  further  retard 
your  convalescence,  already  so  trying  ;  consequently  the 
news  indirectly  communicated  by  Mme.  de  Jussieu,  then 
that  received  by  M.  Lenormant,  finally,  your  letter  to 
Mme.  Recamier,  were  immediately  circulated. 

"  My  very  dear  friend,  I  have  had  experience  in  these 
convalescences  where  a  strict  regimen  is  necessary.  I 
know  how  much  time  they  require,  and  how  much  pru- 
dence must  be  exercised  before  one  can  be  again  re- 
stored to  full  health.  Thus,  while  I  encourage  you,  I 
cannot  help  advising  you  to  be  extremely  prudent. 
We  have  had  no  spring,  and  we  are  now  entering  as  it 
were  into  the  heart  of  summer  all  at  once,  without  any 
transition. 

"  Mme.  Recamier  is  very  well ;  she  goes  out  for  a 
little  while  in  the  morning,  but  generally  stays  at  home 
in  the  evening.  You  will  find  her  in  good  health  and 
without  plans ;  how  could  she  foi-m  any  while  so  many 
of  her  friends  are  absent  ? 

"My  health  is  good,  save  from  time  to  time  some 
little  drawbacks  which  are  always  enfeebling,  but  I  am 
old  and  resigned.  You  will  find  the  Princess  Belgiojoso 
building  a  house  for  Augustin  Thierry.  M.  de  Chateau- 
briand ^  has  arrived  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  conse- 

1  M.  de  Chateaubriand  had  gone  to  Venice  to  see  the  Count  de 
Chambord. 


236  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPJ^RE 

quently  he  will  be  coming  back  soon  ;  so  we  are 
approaching  gradually  to  the  end  of  all  these  absences, 
and  we  shall  know  what  to  do  with  our  summer.  I 
might  give  you  news  of  the  Academy,  but  you  already 
know  all  that  can  be  of  interest  to  you.  In  your  ab- 
sence we  have  received  Sainte-Beuve,  Saint-Marc  Gi- 
rardin,  Merimee ;  we  have  Vigny  and  Vitet  to  receive 
at  your  return.  I  do  not  wish  for  another  vacancy, 
because  I  want  you  to  be  here  in  good  health,  quietly 
making  your  visits  ;  besides,  I  fear  that  the  next  will 
be  that  of  the  venerable  Royer-Collard,  which  would 
grieve  me  very  much  ;  he  is  eighty-three  years  old,  and 
looks  all  his  age.  I  might  tell  you  of  our  religious  dis- 
cussions, but  you  will  arrive  in  time  for  them  ;  I  hope 
you  wiU  take  part  in  them  with  moderation.  I  am 
alone  in  my  opinion,  but  I  think  the  great  and  over- 
powering interest  excited  by  discussions  of  this  sort  is 
marvellous;  and  so  I  am  far  from  deploring  them  as 
many  peoj^le  do.  God  grant,  however,  that  we  may 
all  learn  moderation.  Set  your  mind  at  rest;  be  as- 
sured that  the  health  of  all  in  whom  you  are  interested 
is  unimpaired ;  and  that  you  will  find  that  we  all  love 
you  even  better  than  ever,  if  that  were  possible,  on  ac- 
count of  the  anxiety  you  have  caused  us. 
"  I  embrace  you  warmly." 

Ampere  was  able,  finally,  to  rejoin  his  friends,  but 
the  shock  his  constitution  had  received  was  great,  and 
for  more  than  a  year  he  continued  in  an  alarming  con- 
dition.    At  that  time  he  was  living  with  M.  Mohl,  a 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  237 

learned  foreigner,  subsequently  naturalized  in  France, 
and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  orientalists  of  our 
Academy  of  Inscriptions.  In  this  household,  composed 
of  two  bachelors,  the  phlegmatic  temperament  of  the 
one  formed  an  amusing  contrast  to  the  impetuosity 
of  the  other.  But  though  outwardly  very  unlike,  both 
were  men  of  great  good  sense,  and  the  profound  esteem 
they  had  for  each  other  led  to  mutual  deference,  and 
enabled  them  to  maintain  for  a  long  time  their  associ- 
ation. During  all  Ampere's  illness,  M.  Mohl  gave  him 
the  most  assiduous  care. 

Among  the  persons  who  at  this  juncture  manifested 
a  deep  interest  in  Ampere,  the  Viscountess  de  Noailles 
must  not  be  forgotten.  This  lady  was  no  less  remark- 
able for  her  kindness  than  for  her  brilliant  wit,  her  per- 
fect grace  and  elevation  of  character.  Left  a  widow 
in  early  youth,  and  commanding  the  respect  of  all  who 
knew  her,  she  devoted  herself  to  the  care  of  her  only 
child,  a  daughter,  upon  whom  she  concentrated  all  her 
affections.  The  Viscountess  was  quick  at  repartee,  and 
very  animated  in  conversation.  She  talked  with  great 
ease  and  naturalness,  and  it  pleased  her  to  meet  young 
people  able  to  encounter  her  in  a  war  of  wit.  Conse- 
quently she  was  delighted  with  Ampere ;  nor  was  this 
all ;  by  his  noble  traits  of  character  he  inspired  her  with 
a  real  affection. 

The  Viscountess  de  Noailles  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Ampei*e  at  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  where,  in  company 
with  her  son-in-law  and  daughter,  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  de  Mouchy,  she  was  a  frequent  visitor.     The 


238  JEA  N-JA  CQ  UES  A MPME 

Noailles  had  succeeded  to  the  Montmorencies  in  tlie 
salon  and  in  the  friendship  of  Mrae.  Recamier.  No 
one,,  it  is  true,  could  fill  the  place  that  the  saintly  friend 
of  her  youth,  Matthieu  de  Montmorency,  had  held  in 
her  heart;  but  the  Duke  de  Noailles,  a  much  later 
comer,  was  immediately  adopted  by  Mrae.  Recamier, 
and  admitted  among  the  number,  now  constantly  grow- 
ing less,  of  her  intimate  friends.  This  intimacy  was 
shared  by  all  who  made  part  of  the  daily  circle  at  the 
Abbaye-aux-Bois,  for  one  of  the  results  of  the  ascend- 
ency exercised  by  Mme.  Recamier  was  the  bond  of 
good-will  which  this  remarkable  woman  knew  how  to 
create  between  all  whom  she  loved. 

As  soon  as  Ampere  began  to  gain  a  little  strength, 
he  went  to  pass  a  month  with  Mme.  Lenormant  in  the 
pleasant  valley  of  the  Rille;  a  little  later  he  established 
himself  at  Mouchy,  the  magnificent  residence  of  the 
Viscountess  de  Noailles :  he  ever  held  in  most  grateful 
remembrance  the  delicate  attention  he  received  from 
the  whole  family.  Years  afterward  he  still  spoke  of  it 
with  emotion. 

Ordered  to  observe  a  strict  diet,  obliged  to  remain 
constantly  in  a  recumbent  position,  his  habits  of  study 
broken  up.  Ampere  was  a  very  difficult  patient  to  man- 
age. No  one  ever  needed  to  be  amused  so  much  as  he* 
and,  like  an  obstinate  child,  he  could  hardly  be  made  to 
submit  to  the  course  of  treatment  prescribed.  Conse- 
quently his  convalescence  was  slow.  He  was  still  con- 
fined to  his  room  at  the  beginning  of  the  new  term  at 
the  College  de  France,  and  was  therefore  obliged  to 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  239 

relinquish  all  thought  of  resuming  at  present  the  chair 
which  he  had  held  with  such  marked  success.  He 
chose  for  his  substitute  M.  de  Lomenie,  a  clever  writer, 
already  favorably  known  by  his  critical  and  biographi- 
cal work,  "La  Galerie  des  Contemporains  lUustres." 
In  these  sketches,  treating  of  the  writings  and  conduct 
of  men  of  all  nationalities,  most  of  them  still  living,  and 
very  different  in  genius  and  character,  the  young  au- 
thor, who  signed  himself  "  U)i  homme  de  rien,''^  gave 
evidence,  not  only  of  a  moderation  and  discretion  lare 
at  his  age,  but  of  a  firm  though  kindly  judgment.  His 
literary  criticism  was  ingenious,  and  the  event  proved 
that  he  had  every  qualification  desirable  in  a  professor. 
Ampere  rejoiced  sincerely  in  a  success  which  he  had 
predicted ;  henceforward,  when  either  ill-health  or  his 
journeys  obliged  him  to  relinquish  temporarily  the 
duties  of  his  professorship,  it  was  always  M.  de  Lom(5nie 
whom  he  chose  as  his  substitute. 

When  we  consider  the  severe  shock  given  to  Am- 
pere's constitution  by  his  journey  to  Egypt,  where  he  had 
conducted  himself  with  so  much  imprudence,  the  ques- 
tion naturally  suggests  itself:  What  use  did  he  make 
of  the  knowledge  acquired  at  so  great  a  cost?  A  few 
learned  and  able  memoirs  read  before  the  Academy  of 
Inscriptions,  in  which  he  examines  with  his  usual  acute- 
ness  the  subject  of  the  existence  of  castes  in  Egypt, 
and  makes  use  of  inscriptions  from  monuments  to  shed 
new  light  upon  the  social  conditions  of  mankind  in 
those  remote  ages ;  a  series  of  articles  published  in  the 
"  Kevue  des  Deux  Mondes,"  giving  an  account  of  his 


240  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£:RE 

jouruey,  together  with  interesting  observations  on  man- 
ners and  customs,  descriptions  of  monuments  and  nat- 
ural scenery,  —  these  were  the  only  results. 

His  passion  for  Egyptian  antiquities  once  satisfied, 
Ampere  abandoned  their  study  to  follow  in  other  direc- 
tions the  promptings  of  his  inquiring  spirit.  He  had 
done  enough  to  prove  that  had  he  continued  to  give 
his  attention  to  that  branch  of  knowledge  he  might 
have  produced  a  profound  and  original  work ;  but  with 
him  it  was  a  mere  passing  fancy,  and  he  was  no  more 
constant  to  the  study  of  hieroglyphics  than  to  the 
Chinese  language. 

We  must  not,  however,  fail  to  recognize  that  if  Am- 
pere was  often  content  to  merely  skim  (though  always 
with  a  vigorous  wing)  the  surface  of  studies  widely 
divergent,  he  had  in  all  shown  himself  to  be  animated 
by  a  genuine  literary  spirit.  Skilful  in  detecting  analo- 
gies, he  had  a  keen  relish  for  the  poetry  of  all  nations ; 
he  had  proved  himself,  in  fine,  not  only  a  man  of  eru- 
dition, but  a  bel  esprit  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word. 
The  French  Academy  had  a  claim  upon  him,  and  made 
good  that  claim.  Alexandre  Guiraud  died  in  1846 ; 
Ampere  was  elected  to  succeed  him  early  in  1847. 

My  readers  will  pardon  the  profound  emotion  I  ex- 
perience in  attempting  to  relate  the  events  that  followed 

t 

closely  upon  Ampere's  election  to  the  French  Academy. 
The  last  and  most  obscure  relic  of  that  circle  which 
drew  around  Mme.  Recamier,  attracted  by  admiration 
of  her  intellect,  grace,  and  goodness,  my  heart  bleeds 
in  telling  how,  one  by  one,  all  these  illustrious  examples 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  241 

of  genius  and  of  friendship  have  passed  away.  I  have 
seen  thera  successively  descend  into  the  tomb;  Bal- 
lanche,  Chateaubriand,  preceding  her  who  was  their 
good  angel,  and  then  De  Tocqueville,  Lenormant,  Am- 
pere. I  have  watched  the  gradual  inroads  of  physical 
weakness  in  the  man  who  will  ever  be  considered  the 
greatest  writer  of  his  age,  and  whose  form  will  seem 
to  our  posterity  to  tower  above  the  threshold  of  our 
century,  one  of  those  colossal  figures  which  for  ever 
mark  an  epoch.  With  the  increasing  weight  of  bodily 
infirmities,  M.  de  Chateaubriand  became  more  and 
more  taciturn.  The  eagerness  and  curiosity  which 
he  always  excited  annoyed  him;  obliged  to  be  car- 
ried into  the  salon  of  Mme.  Recamier,  the  feelinsf  he 
had  was  similar  to  that  of  Royer  Collard,  who,  when 
he  resigned  his  functions  of  deputy,  exclaimed,  "  I  do 
not  want  any  one  to  see  me  go  crawling  to  my  seat." 
Like  him,  M.  de  Chateaubriand  could  not  submit  to 
be  an  object  of  pity,  mingled  though  it  were  with  ad- 
miration. 

Dark,  indeed,  were  the  clouds  now  gathering  over 
the  poor  salon  of  the  Abbaye.  Mme.  R6camier,  over 
whose  eyes  a  cataract  was  slowly  spreading  its  veil, 
would  have  been  justified  in  giving  a  little  more  atten- 
tion to  herself,  but  she  seemed  to  forget,  and  by  her 
serenity  sought  to  make  others  forget,  the  calamity 
which  threatened  her.  The  faithful  Ballanche,  whose 
health  had  been  always  very  delicate,  was  failing  day 
by  day:  his  distress  at  Mme.  Rdcamier's  almost  total 
blindness,  and  his  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  operation  to 
11  p 


242  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

which  she  had  resolved  to  submit,  affected  him  most 
unfavorably.  Hardly  had  the  operation  been  per- 
formed when  he  was  attacked  by  an  inflammation  of 
the  lungs,  which  speedily  became  fatal.  Mrae.  Re- 
camier  hastened  to  the  dying  bed  of  her  friend,  and 
lost  in  tears  the  sight  she  had  just  recovered.  Amid 
these  scenes  of  mourning  and  accumulated  sorrow, 
Ampere  played  the  part  of  the  most  affectionate  son. 
In  concert  with  M.  and  Mme.  Lenormant,  he  aided 
Mme.  R^camier  to  divert  M.  de  Chateaubriand  from  his 
melancholy;  and  by  his  genial  flow  of  spirits  and  enthu- 
siastic republicanism  he  succeeded  in  the  task.  It  was 
under  these  circumstances  that  his  initiatory  discourse 
was  written,  and  the  ceremony  of  his  admission  into 
the  French  Academy  took  place. 

The  effort  made  by  Mme.  Recamier  to  conceal  her 
grief  for  Ballanche,  so  as  not  to  increase  M.  de  Cha- 
teaubriand's dejDression,  had,  however,  so  exhausted  her 
strength  that  her  niece,  justly  alarmed,  insisted  upon 
her  going  into  the  country,  and  actually  dragged  her 
away  from  Paris.  Ampere  followed  them  to  Normandy, 
It  was  there  that  he  prepared  the  volume  which,  so 
Mme.  Recamier  hoped,  was  to  popularize  the  works  of 
Ballanche,  and  perpetuate  his  memory  as  well  as  his 
talent  and  lofty  soul.  They  read  over  the  writings  of 
the  lamented  philosopher,  and  together  selected  the 
passages  to  be  quoted.  To  Mme.  Recamier  the  occu- 
pation was  a  pleasing  one,  as,  while  it  served  to  fix 
her  attention,  it  did  not  divert  her  thoughts  from  the 
memory  of  the  friend  she  had  lost. 


AND   THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  243 

Ballanche,  as  a  writer,  is  far  from  having  the  rank 
which  is  his  due,  and  which  will  be  his  whenever  a 
well-arranged  edition  of  his  works  shall  bring  them 
within  reach  of  the  real  public,  by  whom  he  is  too  little 
known.  His  style  is  everywhere  superb,  pure,  and 
elevated,  often  powerful,  and  sometimes  very  pictu- 
resque; though  it  cannot  always  atone  for  the  fault 
of  a  somewhat  vague  philosophy.  The  volume  com- 
posed by  Ampere  at  the  instigation  and,  I  may  say, 
under  the  dictation  of  Mme.  Recaraier,  is  not  and  could 
not  be,  in  the  strict  sense,  a  biography,  for  the  career 
of  Ballanche  was  marked  by  no  events.  He  took  no 
part  in  the  political  agitations  of  his  time,  and  his 
whole  life  was  made'  up  of  what  he  thought,  felt,  and 
wrote.  The  aim  of  the  book  was  to  reveal  what  was 
innermost  both  in  the  man  and  the  author,  and  convey 
to  the  public  "an  emanation  from  that  beautiful  soul 
so  full  of  hidden  perfumes,  by  means  of  a  few  of  his 
letters  and  extracts  from  his  works,  choosing  those  best 
fitted  for  extraction  and  indicative  of  the  quality  of 
his  talent."  The  purpose  thus  expressed  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  work  has  been  completely  accomjDlished ; 
and  this  volume  of  extracts  throws  the  clearest  light 
upon  the  very  peculiar  character  of  Ballanche. 

The  private  loss  which  had  made  so  sad  a  void  in 
the  circle  of  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois  was  soon  followed 
by  a  public  catastrophe.  The  revolution  of  February, 
1848,  swept  away  in  three  days  the  throne  that  the 
revolution  of  July,  1830,  had  taken  three  days  to 
erect.     Civil  war  stained  with  blood  the  streets  of  our 


244  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP  ME 

capital,  and  the  last  agonies  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand 
had  a  sinister  accompaniment  in  the  terrible  voice  of 
the  cannon  of  June.  It  was  on  the  4th  of  July,  1848, 
that  the  great  soul  of  the  author  of  the  "  Genius  of 
Christianity "  took  its  flight  toward  eternity.  The 
noble  old  man  fell  asleep  in  the  Lord  with  a  placid 
confidence.  His  eyes,  as  they  closed  for  ever,  were 
still  able  to  fix  their  gaze  upon  that  incomparable  friend 
who  was  not  long  to  survive  him.  His  last  anxieties 
were  for  his  country ;  dying,  he  followed  with  sad  in- 
terest the  strife  of  parties,  of  which  he  was  eager  to 
hear  all  the  particulars.  The  self-sacrifice  of  the  arch- 
bishop of  Paris  drew  from  him  a  magnificent  burst  of 
admiration,  and  great  was  his  joy  at  the  glorious  issue 
of  those  terrible  days. 

M.  de  Chateaubriand  had  expressed  the  wish  that  his 
mortal  remains  should  be  buried  beside  the  sea,  whose 
waves  had  cradled  his  infancy,  and  the  town  of  St.  Malo 
had  prepared  for  him  during  his  lifetime  a  tomb  upon 
a  rocky  islet  not  far  from  its  walls.  Upon  this  rock, 
called  the  Grand  Bey,  and  facing  the  town,  "  where  life 
was  inflicted  upon  him,"  rests  the  body  of  the  illus- 
trious author.  At  high  tide  Grand  Bey  forms  an 
island,  at  low  tide  it  can  be  reached  by  the  beach  left 
bare  by  the  receding  waves.  On  the  side  looking  to- 
ward the  open  sea,  the  spot  chosen  by  the  deceased,  is  his 
tomb,  excavated  in  the  solid  granite  rock.  Above  the 
tomb  rises  a  massive  cross,  also  of  granite  ;  and  around, 
nothing  but  the  sea  and  sky.  There,  on  the  19th  of 
July,   1848,  were  laid  to  rest  the  remains  of  M.  de 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  245 

Chateaubriand,  amid  an  immense  concourse  of  specta- 
tors, and  with  ceremonies  which  lent  to  the  occasion 
all  the  character  of  a  Christian  apotheosis. 

Ampere  made  it  his  religious  duty  to  accompany  the 
remains  to  Brittany.  He  was  then  chancellor  of  the 
Academy,  and  before  his  departure  he  intimated  to 
the  perpetual  secretary  that  he  would  consider  it  a 
great  honor  if  the  members  of  that  body  would  give 
him  the  authority  to  speak  for  them  at  the  approaching 
obsequies.  Before  the  time  fixed  for  the  funeral  cere- 
monies he  received  at  St.  Malo  the  following  note  from 
M.  Villemain  :  — 

"Monsieur  and  dear  colleague,"  he  wrote,  "the 
Academy  is  not  surprised  that  you  sbould  have  antici- 
pated her  choice  of  a  delegate  for  the  pious  duty  which 
it  is  yours  to  fulfil.  In  paying  the  last  funereal  honors 
to  the  mortal  remains  of  the  illustrious  man  she  has 
lost,  she  cannot  be  better  represented  than  by  you,  and 
she  accordingly  charges  you  to  speak  in  her  name,  both 
as  her  chancellor  and  as  one  of  her  most  worthy  repre- 
sentatives, and  also  as  having  won  the  friendship  of 
the  great  author  who  has  conferred  upon  her  so  much 
honor.  In  all  that  you  say  of  the  imperishable  fame  of 
M.  de  Chateaubriand,  and  of  that  generous  nature 
which  was  so  well  known  to  you,  our  admiration  and 
our  hearts  are  with  you. 

"Receive,  Monsieur  and  dear  colleague,  the  assurance 
of  my  high  esteem. 

"  Villemain. 

"July  15,  1848." 


246  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

Ampere  accordingly,  in  the  course  of  these  imposing 
obsequies,  pronounced  a  few  words,  marked  by  deep 
feeling,  such  as  he  would  naturally  be  inspired  to  utter 
by  the  religious  and  poetical  aspect  of  this  last  scene 
in  the  drama  of  a  poetic  life. 

The  Countess  de  Boigne,  the  only  friend  of  her  youth 
still  left  to  Mme.  Recamier,  was  absent  from  Paris  at 
the  time  of  M.  de  Chateaubriand's  death.  At  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  revolution  of  February  she  had  sought 
refuge  at  Tours,  and  had  not  yet  returned.  Sympa- 
thizing deeply  with  the  grief  in  which  she  knew  Mme. 
Recamier  must  be  plunged,  she  wrote  to  her,  August 
12th,  1848:  — 

"  Very  dear  Friend,  —  I  have  heard  simultaneously 
of  your  severe  sufferings  and  of  your  recovery.  I  had 
no  need  of  this  additional  anxiety  about  your  poor  dear 
life ;  but  I  do  not  recognize  your  usual  strength  of  mind 
or  your  tender  heart  in  the  way  you  are  giving  up,-to 
the  despair  of  the  faithful  friends  still  remaining  to  you, 
and  who  have  the  right  to  beg  you  to  help  them  in 
their  efforts  to  sustain  you  in  this  painful  event.  I 
know  that  it  is  accompanied  and  has  been  preceded  by 
much  that  is  calculated  to  impair  your  strength  and 
shake  your  courage ;  but,  dear  friend,  you  must  get 
back  a  little  of  both,  so  that  you  may  cherish  and  clothe 
anew  in  all  its  old  strength  and  beauty  that  image  of 
your  friend  which  the  past  few  months  had  somewhat 
defaced.  I  can  understand  —  who  better  than  I  ?  —  that 
your  affectionate  heart  must  bitterly  regret  what  was 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  247 

still  left  you  to  cherish,  love,  nurse,  and  husband,  of  a 
life  so  precious ;  I  can  understand  that  you  must  feel  a 
sort  of  irritation,  when  you  have  reason  to  suspect  that 
others  think  your  grief  out  of  proportion  with  what  in 
these  last  days  there  was  yet  to  lose  of  that  illustrious 
existence ;  and  yet,  dear  friend,  I  must  say  to  you  that 
you  will  finally  admit  yourself  that  it  was  not  desirable 
that  that  life  should  be  prolonged ;  for  the  hour  of 
physical  suffering  had  arrived,  accompanied  by  no  com- 
pensations, since  the  strength  to  support  pain  was 
gone.  His  mighty  genius  had  worn  itself  out  before 
wearins:  out  its  mortal  frame.  All  that  now  remains 
of  him  is  your  love  and  his  fame  ;  it  will  not  be  diffi- 
cult for  you  to  confound  the  two  together  and  make 
them  one.  You  will  by  that  means  find  greater  com- 
fort in  your  recollections.  Alas !  for  a  long  time  you 
have  been  living  only  in  these  recollections  through  a 
sad  and  painful  present;  for  I  have  seen  how  cruelly 
you  have  suffered  from  the  sight  of  infirmities  which, 
in  spite  of  the  zeal  and  ingenuity  of  your  affection, 
you  could  neither  disguise  to  yourself  nor  conceal  from 
others. 

"  Dear  friend,  I  conjure  you  let  your  mind  bridge 
over  this  arid  desert,  and  beyond  you  will  find  pleas- 
anter  thoughts  and  more  cheerful  views.  It  is  there, 
among  images  of  the  past,  that  you  must  pitch  your 
tent,  and  allow  your  friends  to  rally  around  you.  3Ion 
Dieu  !  in  this  the  whole  world  will  help  you,  by  bring- 
ing to  you  the  tributes  of  admiration  so  long  merited 
by  him  whom  you  weep.     Do  not  make  it  a  religious 


248  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPi^RE 

duty  to  picture  him  to  your  heart  such  as  he  was  in  his 
last  days ;  it  is  unworthy  both  of  him  and  of  you. 
Replace  him  upon  the  pedestal  where  he  once  stood, 
bear  thither  your  loving  suffrages ;  herein  you  will  find 
the  only  possible  consolation.  Consider  also  that 
though  his  reputation  has  no  need  of  extraneous  sup- 
port, the  care  of  it  has  fallen  into  hands  that  are  neither 
very  well  informed  nor  loving,  and  that  you  should  not 
allow  yourself  to  be  so  overcome  as  to  lose  all  influ- 
ence in  the  matter.  M.  de  Girardin's  position  will  prob- 
ably render  him  very  exacting.  He  is  adroit  and  not 
over-scrupulous,  and  it  is  essential  that  in  this  direction 
no  false  steps  should  be  risked.  Your  instinctive  tact 
will  be  of  more  avail  than  all  the  quibbles  of  the  law. 
I  beg  Amelie  to  accept  this  as  an  answer  to  her  letter, 
thanking  her  for  writing  and  for  the  pamphlet,  which 
has  interested  me  very  much.  I  am  soriy  that  you 
are  unwilling  to  leave  the  poor  Abbaye,  which  is  be- 
coming so  sadly  depopulated.  No  doubt  you  will  carry 
with  you  everywhere  the  arrow  which  transpierces  you, 
but  it  would  be  at  least  a  change  of  air,  which  would 
give  you  a  little  more  strength  to  bear  your  pain.  I 
wish  that  you  might  decide  to  come  to  Tours." 

M.  de  Chateaubriand's  death  was,  alas !  a  mortal  blow 
to  Mme.  Recamier.  The  sources  of  life  seemed,  as  it 
were,  dried  up  within  her.  We  watched  her  languish 
for  ten  months,  without  one  rebellious  murmur,  retain- 
ing her  sweetness,  her  perfect  grace,  her  angelic  good- 
ness ;  more  loving  thaii   ever,  perhaps,  toward  those 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  249 

from  whom  she  felt  she  would  soon  be  obliged  to  part. 
It  caused  her  a  sort  of  melancholy  joy  to  learn  that 
the  Duke  de  Noailles,  who  had  been  chosen  for  AI.  de 
Chateaubriand's  successor  at  the  Academy,  was  to  pro- 
nounce his  eulogy. 

The  cholera  had  reappeared.  It  was  the  only  malady 
Mme.  Recamier  was  ever  known  to  really  fear.  She 
resolved  to  fly  from  the  pestilence,  which  was  raging 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Abbaye-aux-Bois,  and 
which  had  even  penetrated  within  its  walls,  and  took 
up  her  abode  with  her  niece  at  the  National  Library, 
for  the  infection  had  up  to  that  time  spared  the  Rue 
Richelieu.  But  Mme.  Recamier's  state  of  depression 
and  debility  probably  made  her  peculiarly  susceptible 
to  the  terrible  influence.  She  had  only  been  a  month 
at  the  Library  when  she  was  attacked  by  the  disorder 
she  so  much  dreaded,  and  to  which  she  succumbed, 
after  a  few  hours  of  frightful  agony,  on  the  11th  of 
May,  1849. 

It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  here  the  anguish  of  that 
terrible  night,  still  less  to  try  to  paint  the  grief  of  her 
family  and  friends,  who  saw  their  guiding-star,  their 
centre  of  life,  disappear  with  this  adorable  woman. 
They  scattered  far  and  wide  as  people  do  who  fly  from 
a  falling  thunderbolt. 

Ampere  immediately  left  Paris ;  without  a  home, 
without  relations,  stricken  in  his  dearest  affections,  he 
felt  once  more  the  urgent  need  to  travel,  thinking  by 
this  means  to  escape  from  the  isolation,  the  void  that 
had  been  made  around  him.  But  before  going  he  re- 
11* 


250  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPi:RE 

signed  his  position  as  conservator  of  the  "Bibliotheque 
Mazarine."  It  was  during  the  Republic  of  1848  that 
this  position  had  become  vacant,  and  M.  de  Falloux, 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  had,  unsolicited,  ap- 
pointed Ampere  to  fill  it.  A  spacious  and  convenient 
apartment  was  attached  to  the  place,  and  great  had 
been  the  satisfaction  of  Mme.  Recamier  and  her  circle 
of  friends  at  this  comfortable  provision  for  a  man  whose 
generosity  often  reached  the  verge  of  improvidence, 
and  whose  money  seemed  to  belong  to  everybody  else 
rather  than  to  himself. 

On  her  death,  however,  without  taking  counsel  of 
any  one,  Ampere  immediately  sent  in  his  resignation. 
He  said  nothing  about  it  to  M.  and  Mme.  Lenormant 
until  the  deed  was  done,  and  he  came  to  bid  tliem 
good-by.  Then  he  departed  on  his  journey,  hoping 
amid  new  scenes  to  foi-get  himself. 

He  had  never  been  in  Spain.  M.  Roulin,  the  present 
librarian  of  the  French  Institute,  who  had  long  been 
his  kind  and  faithful  friend,  the  friend,  too,  of  M.  Le- 
normant, and  with  whom  Ampere  knew  that  he  could 
talk  of  Mme.  Recamier,  was  about  setting  out  for  that 
country.  This  circumstance  determined  his  course. 
Wishing  to  see  M.  Barante,  an  old  friend  of  Mme.  Re- 
camier, and  share  with  him  his  grief,  he  went  by  way 
of  Auvergne,  where  he  made  a  short  stay,  joining  M. 
Roulin  subsequently  on  the  frontier,  whence  they 
visited  in  company  the  Spanish  peninsula.  After  his 
friend  had  returned  to  Paris,  Ampere  completed  his 
trip  by  a  tour  through  Portugal. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  251 

"When  Ampere  left  Paris,  —  June,  1849, — Alexis  de 
Toequeville  had  just  been  appointed  by  the  President 
of  the  Republic  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs.  This  office 
he  held  only  until  the  following  October,  when  he  left 
Paris  and  proceeded  to  Sorrento,  whither  he  had  been 
imperatively  ordered  for  the  benefit  of  his  health, 
seriously  impaired  in  his  country's  service.  He  wrote 
to  Ampere,  who  had  meanwhile  returned  to  Paris, 
begging  him  to  join  him  and  share  his  retreat.  To  be 
again  with  the  best  friend  left  to  him  on  earth,  to  live 
in  a  sunny  climate,  where  alone  he  could  breathe  freely, 
away  from  Paris,  now  become  hateful  to  him,  was  an 
iiTCsistible  temptation  to  Ampere,  and  he  accordingly 
joined  De  Toequeville  in  the  environs  of  Naples.  Here 
was  passed  another  happy  period  of  his  life.  Long 
afterward  he  took  jjleasure  in  recalling  and  describing 
the  terrace,  with  its  orange  trees,  where,  looking  out  in 
company  with  his  friend  upon  that  beautiful  bay,  that 
azure  sea,  he  laid  bare  his  heart  to  the  man  he  both 
loved  and  honored.  How  many  generous  thoughts 
were  there  interchanged;  of  what  noble  sorrow  was 
Ampere  made  the  confidant ;  and  how  these  conversa- 
tions reanimated  and  restored  his  drooping  courage ! 
It  was  at  Sorrento  that  he  conceived  the  idea  of  visit- 
ing America,  —  a  plan  which  he  carried  into  effect  the 
following  year. 

The  winter  of  1850-51,  which  Alexis  de  Toequeville 
passed  at  Tours,  brought  back  Ampere  to  Paris.  He 
resumed  his  lectures  at  the  College  de  France,  and 
eagerly  but  sadly  renewed  his  intimacy  with  the  few 


252  JEAN~,TACQUES  AMPERE 

persons  still  remaining  of  the  circle  of  the  Abbaye-aux- 
Bois,  —  Paul  David,  M.  and  Mme.  Lenormant  and  their 
children,  whom  he  had  known  from  their  earliest  in- 
fancy, and  who  were  now  in  the  bloom  of  youth ; 
Ozanam,  de  Lomenie,  Leonce  de  Lavergne,  M.  Pas- 
quier,  Mme.  de  Boigne,  the  Duke  and  Duchess  de 
Noailles,  the  Viscountess  de  ISToailles  and  her  daughtei-, 
the  Duchess  de  Mouchy,  M.  Guizot,  Mme.  d'Hausson- 
ville,  the  Duke  and  the  Prince  de  Broglie.  "Alas!" 
he  wrote  to  Mme.  Lenormant,  "  all  that  was  the  pres- 
ent is  becoming  the  past,  and  we  must  cling  to  what 
remains  that  we  may  be  able  to  bear  the  loss  of  that 
which  is  no  more." 

It  was  not  in  Ampere's  nature  to  be  long  despondent ; 
he  could  feel,  and  had  felt,  the  transj)orts  of  violent 
grief;  but  for  him,  so  long  as  life  lasted,  there  was 
always  something  to  do,  something  to  be  investigated, 
something  to  be  thought  out.  In  the  month  of  August, 
1851,  he  went  to  England  with  Ozanam  (already  in  a 
state  of  decline)  and  his  charming  wife ;  it  was  their 
purpose  to  visit  together  the  first  Universal  Exi^osition. 
Let  us  leave  Ampere  to  relate  this  episode  of  his 
wandering  life,  which  forms,  in  fact,  the  opening  chap- 
ter of  his  book  entitled  "Promenade  en  Amerique." 
From  this  introduction  the  reader  will  be  able  to 
judge  of  the  lively  and  easy  style  of  the  book,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  solid  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  charm- 
ing of  the  author's  works. 


AND   THE  ABBA  YE-AUX-BOIS.  253 

"  SoDTHAMrTON,  August  27,  1851. 

"  Yesterday  I  was  in  the  Crystal  Palace  in  London. 
I  have  just  seen  the  Universal  Exhibition,  the  first 
really  universal  achievement  in  the  history  of  mankind. 
Yes,  it  is  the  first  time  since  the  world  began  that  men 
have  done  something  in  common ;  that  all  nations, 
without  distinction  of  country,  race,  or  belief,  have 
come  together  in  the  unanimity  of  one  and  the  same 
enterprise;  a  memorable  and  prophetic  event,  for  it 
proclaims  and  inaugurates,  so  to  speak,  the  future  unity 
of  the  human  race. 

"  To-day  I  leave  England  for  the  United  States, 
where  I  shall  see,  in  the  fullest  freedom  of  active 
operation,  those  industrial  forces  whose  world-wide  re- 
sults I  have  admired  in  London.  But,  before  leaving 
behind  me  the  shores  of  Europe,  I  beg  permission  to 
relate  an  incident  which  gave  me  a  piquant  and  pleas- 
ant foretaste  of  America. 

"  In  the  railway  carriage  which  took  me  fi'om  London 
to  Southampton,  in  company  with  an  eminent  American 
—  Mr.  Theodore  Sedgwick  —  who  is  to  sail  with  me, 
was  an  English  lady,  who  made  immediately  an  impres- 
sion upon  me  by  her  decision  of  speech  and  the  original 
turn  of  her  mind.  It  was  Fanny  Kemble,  whose  fanciful 
and  romantic  volume  on  the  United  States,  a  true  girl's 
book,  had  delighted  me ;  and,  albeit  it  was  somewhat 
severe  on  American  manners,  had  first  inspired  me 
with  a  longing  to  undertake  the  voyage  upon  which  I 
stai't  to-day.  The  brow,  the  glance,  the  whole  person 
of  the  niece  of  Mrs.  Siddons  glows  with  a  light  caught 


254  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£RE 

from  the  Tragic  Muse.  Much  has  happened  since  she 
wrote  what  she  now  calls  her  '  impertinences '  on  Amer- 
ican manners,  since  she  talked  of  her  horseback  rides 
on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  and  penned  the  charm- 
ing verses  suggested  by  those  scerbes.  Although  she 
brought  back  sad  recollections  from  her  adopted  country, 
she  appreciates  better  than  she  did  the  social  advan- 
tages of  a  land  where,  she  tells  me,  you  feel  that  there 
is  no  one  about  you  suffering  from  want.  Her  enthu- 
siasm, however,  for  its  natural  beauties  seems  to  have 
cooled.  For  my  part,  I  prefer  in  that  respect  to  trust 
to  her  youthful  impressions." 

Ampere  remained  eight  months  in  the  New  "World. 
He  visited  all  parts  of  North  America,  Canada,  New 
Orleans,  the  Island  of  Cuba,  and  completed  this  in- 
teresting tour  of  observation  by  a  trip  to  Mexico.  A 
passionate  admirer  of  the  gi-and  in  nature,  a  no  less 
enthusiastic  obsex'ver  of  the  mighty  results  of  human 
industry,  in  which,  as  in  all  the  productions  of  man's 
genius,  he  did  not  fail  to  discover  a  lofty  and  poetic 
side.  Ampere  was  well  suited  to  enjoy  the  happiness 
of  living  under  free  institutions.  Everywhere  received 
as  befitted  a  man  of  his  merit,  the  inheritor  of  a  name 
famous  in  science,  heralded  and  accredited  as  the  friend 
of  Alexis  de  Tocqueville,  Ampere  saw  not  only  the 
country  of  America  but  the  people.  His  book,  ani- 
mated by  the  most  genuine  good  feeling,  is  marked  by 
no  exaggerations ;  the  frankest,  perhaps,  of  all  the  trav- 
ellers who  have  written  of  the  Americans,  his  account 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  255 

of  them  leaves  upon  the  mind  the  most  favorable  im- 
pression of  their  country  and  its  society.  Nothing, 
moreover,  could  be  more  entertaining  tlian  this  "Prome- 
nade in  the  New  World,"  in  the  course  of  which  Ampere 
dines  with  the  President  of  the  United  States,  in  com- 
pany with  Kossuth ;  is  charmed  at  Philadelphia  by 
the  accents  of  Jenny  Lind ;  and  as  he  listens  to  the 
"  Swedish  Nightingale,"  is  reminded  that  twenty-five 
years  before,  in  another  hemisphere,  he  had  heard 
another  nightingale,  Mme,  Catalani,  sing  at  Stockholm. 
Entering  Vii'ginia,  our  critic  on  his  travels  sleeps  at 
Petersburg,  then  an  obscure  town,  since  made  sadly 
famous  by  the  vast  hecatombs  of  dead  now  sleeping  in 
its  neighboring  fields.  To  come  upon  that  name  there 
is  a  shock  to  the  imagination,  "  though,"  he  adds,  "  one 
must  get  accustomed  in  this  country  to  the  most  ex- 
traordinary surprises.  '  Memphis,'  '  Palmyra,'  '  Rome,' 
'  London,'  '  Paris,'  lie  along  the  route  of  the  traveller  in 
the  United  States,  —  a  plain  indication  that  this  New 
World  is  the  child  of  the  Old,  and  proudly  desirous  to 
imitate  her." 

At  Charleston,  Ampere  witnessed  a  hideous  specta- 
cle: — 

"I  have  just  seen  in  broad  daylight  in  the  public 
square  a  family  of  negroes  sold  at  auction.  They  were 
mounted  on  a  cart,  as  for  an  execution  ;  on  one  side 
was  displayed  a  red  flag,  —  worthy  emblem  of  crime 
and  slavery.  The  negi'oes  and  negresses  wore  as  un- 
concerned  an  air  as  the  crowd  of  by-standers.     Tlie 


256  JEAN-JACQUES  AMP£!RE 

auctioneer,  in  a  playful  style,  set  forth  the  capabilities 
of  a  very  intelligent  negro,  a  gardener,  of  the  first  class. 
The  purchasers  inspected  the  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, opened  their  mouths,  looked  at  their  teeth ;  and 
then  the  bidding  began.  Near  by,  at  the  same  time 
and  in  just  the  same  way,  a  horse  was  sold,  and 
people  were  bidding  for  an  ass.  The  price  of  the  man 
was  sixty-nine  dollars,  the  horse  cost  two  dollars  more. 
I  make  no  comments  upon  the  scene  I  have  described. 
I  finished  the  day,  begun  under  such  distressing  au- 
spices, on  a  slave  plantation.  It  was  the  farce  that  fol- 
lows the  tragedy.  The  owner  of  the  plantation  is  a 
German,  and  evidently  the  least  cruel  and  least  tyran- 
nical of  men.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  literally  tyran- 
nized over  by  his  negroes.     Mr. ,  who  is  a  humane 

man,  is  unwilling  to  whip  his  slaves ;  the  slaves,  little 
moved  to  gratitude,  work  without  energy,  and  with 
great  negligence.  He  entered  a  cabin  where  some  ne- 
gresses  were  busy  cleaning  cotton ;  he  merely  pointed 
out  to  them  how  badly  their  work  was  done,  and  ex- 
plained to  us  the  serious  loss  he  should  suffer  through 
their  indolence.  The  only  effect  of  his  reproof  was  a 
pout  and  low  grunt.  No  old  bachelor's  housekeeper 
ever  took  reproofs  with  a  worse  grace.  The  wrong  of 
which  he  complained  was  still  another  argument  against 
slavery ;  paid  servants  can  be  forced  to  do  their  work 
well  by  threatening  to  turn  them  away ;  with  slaves 
there  are  only  two  things  to  be  done,  —  whip  them,  or 
be  the  victim  of  their  laziness.  Deplorable  situation, 
in  which  one  must  be  either  cruel  or  ill-obeyed." 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  257 

Ampere,  it  is  plain,  was  not  nn  advocate  of  slavery. 
While  doing  ample  justice  to  the  inestimable  advan- 
tages of  American  institutions,  he  was  under  no  illusion 
in  regai'd  to  the  dangers  which  threatened  the  great 
democratic  confederacy.  The  difficulty  of  maintaining 
the  union  between  the  Northern  and  Southern  States, 
so  different  in  character,  so  opposed  in  interests;  the 
formidable  question  of  slavery  ;  and,  finally,  the  undue 
acquisition  of  territory,  toward  which  the  Americans 
are  incessantly  impelled,  by  the  spirit  of  enterprise,  and 
the  temptation  of  their  supremacy,  —  all  these  grave  and 
almost  insolvable  difficulties,  which  very  few  statesmen 
recognized  at  the  time  Ampere  visited  America,  were 
clearly  seen  by  him,  and  his  book  prophetically  pointed 
them  out  ten  years  before  they  led  to  the  fratricidal 
strife  of  which  we  have  been  the  witnesses. 

After  visiting  Havana,  Ampere  proceeded  to  Mexico. 
This  country,  since  watered  with  the  blood  of  our 
soldiers,  the  object  of  so  much  anxiety,  speculation, 
hope,  and  fear  to  France,  the  scene  of  so  many  blun- 
ders, is  not,  like  the  United  States,  without  a  past,  or 
destitute  of  historic  monuments. 

The  Aztec  civilization  has  left  deep  traces  behind  it. 
Ampere  did  scarcely  more  than  pass  through  the  an- 
cient empire  of  Montezuma,  but  the  glance  of  the  expe- 
rienced traveller  was  so  quick  and  sure  that  he  was  able 
to  make  observations,  as  novel  as  they  were  ingenious, 
upon  the  antiquities,  the  history,  and  especially  the 
dialects  of  the  country. 

On  the  10th  of  May,  1852,  the  indefatigable  explorer, 

Q 


258  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

having  returned  to  Paris,  resumed  his  duties  at  the 
College  de  France,  where,  during  the  first  term  of  that 
year,  M.  de  Lomenie  had  supplied  his  place. 

An  absence  need  not  be  long  for  us  to  find  upon  our 
return  that  death  has  been  making  sad  havoc  in  the 
ranks  of  our  friends.  Ampere  was  never  to  see  again 
the  brilliant  Viscountess  de  Noailles,  of  whom  Mme. 
de  Boigne  wrote  to  Mme.  Recamier:  "She  has  a  re- 
markable wit  that  she  often  wastes,  that  she  does  not 
scruple  to  bestow  upon  the  stupid,  but  there  is  so  much 
of  it,  that  enough  still  remains  for  fit  occasions." 

The  friendship  that  the  Viscountess  de  Noailles  felt 
for  Ampere  reverted  as  a  part  of  her  heritage  to  her 
daughter,  and  the  memory  of  it  became  a  cherished 
bond  of  union  between  the  two.  At  the  time  of  Mme. 
R^camier's  death,  the  Viscountess  offered  Ampere  an 
apartment  in  a  detached  wing  of  her  house  in  Paris, 
which  he  refused.  The  Duchess  de  Mouchy,  with 
affectionate  persistence,  now  renewed  the  offer.  The 
following  is  Ampere's  reply  to  this  friendly  proposal :  — • 

"  Saturday,  August  30, 
"  How  kind  and  generous  you  are  to  me,  madame!  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  am  touched,  nay,  almost 
overcome,  by  your  proposal  to  take  me  under  your  roof, 
—  in  that  house,  too,  in  the  Rue  d'Astorg,  which  has 
for  me  so  many  associations.  Do  not  be  offended  if  I 
cannot  profit  by  it:  aside  from  a  rascally  disposition  of 
mine,  which  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  cast  anchor 
anywhere,  such  is  my  wild-cat  nature  that  I  am  never 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  259 

at  home  except  in  the  i-egion  of  the  roofs  and  gutters, 
with  no  stationary  domicile,  and  ever  on  the  move  (by 
the  way,  I  brought  in  a  thief  guilty  the  other  day  ^ 
on  charge  of  vagrancy  ;  it  was  very  mean  of  me  not  to 
have  claimed  for  him  the  benefit  of  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances). I  am,  you  see,  a  wild-cat,  and  for  such 
worthless  creatures  nothing  can  be  done;  besides,  the 
Rue  d'Astorg  is  too  far  from  my  work,  that  is  to  say, 
from  the  Institute  and  its  library.  I  am  now  lodging 
just  opposite  the  other  library,  close  by  the  room  where 
my  books  and  manuscripts  are."^  I  must  be  near  them. 
I  hoped  that  in  coming  here  I  had  drawn  nearer  to 
you,  and  now  you  are  to  be  at  Versailles  this  winter ; 
it  is  you  who  run  away  from  me.  However,  journeys 
have  no  terrors  for  me.  I  would  willingly  undertake 
much  longer  ones,  provided  you  were  at  the  end  of 
them.  I  have  to  sit  again  on  that  tiresome  jury.  You 
can  have  no  idea  how  much  experience  I  have  gained 
in  the  last  week  with  regard  to  crimes.  There  is  one 
class  which  has  fallen  considerably  in  my  estimation, — 
that  is,  the  witnesses ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  the  aver- 
age juror  has  risen  very  high  in  my  opinion. 

"  Day  before  yesterday,  after  punishing  crime  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice,  I  went  to  reward  virtue  at  the  French 
Academy.  Some  time  ago  I  had>an  interview  with  a 
candidate  for  this  prize  ;  but  virtue,  it  seemed  to  me, 
was  a  matter  which  she  knew  very  little  about.    Adieu, 

1  Ampere  had  been  on  a  jury. 

2  His  books  and  MSS.  were  stored  with  M.  Lenormant  at  the 
National  Library. 


260  JEAN-JA  CQ  UES  A MP£RE 

raadame  ;  I  would  fain  make  you  smile,  at  least  amuse 
you,  as  a  return,  however  slight,  for  that  charming  kind- 
ness of  which  you  have  just  given  me  another  proof 
never  to  be  forgotten." 

At  the  close  of  the  college  term.  Ampere  set  out  for 
Tocqueville.  He  was  impatient  to  communicate  to  his 
friend  his  vivid  impressions  of  America.  He  announced 
his  departure  to  the  Duchess  de  Mouchy  in  the  follow- 
ing letter :  — 

"Paeis,  July  14. 

"I  am  unwilling,  madanie,  to  leave  Paris  without 
saying  good-by  to  you.  Your  own  departure  was 
somewhat  hasty,  and  I  found  only  the  kind  note  for 
which  I  have  to  thank  you.  My  lectures  have  at  last 
come  to  an  end,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  ray  hearers, 
who  would  soon  have  come  to  an  end  themselves, 
melted  by  the  heat.  I  intend  to  go  to  Tocqueville  and 
write  my  "America"  there.  I  shall  stop  a  little  while 
with  Mme.  Lenormant,  then  I  have  Mouchy  in  prospect, 
—  a  prospect  both  sad  and  pleasant,  which  dismays  me, 
and  yet  invites.  I  think  of  it  often,  —  of  those  whom 
I  shall  see  there  no  more,  and  those  who  still  remain. 
It  is  a  spot  painful  for  me  to  revisit,  but  never  to  see  it 
again  would  be  still  more  so. 

"  You  must  be  congratulating  yourself,  madame,  that 
you  are  just  now  at  Dieppe  ;  it  is,  perhaps,  the  only 
place  where  it  is  not  too  hot.  I  remember  to  have 
passed  a  summer  there,  which  was  scorching  every- 
where else,  but  very  agreeable  there.     Dieppe  for  me 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  261 

is  also  a  place  of  sweet  and  bitter  memories.  There 
have  I  strolled  in  company  with  M.  de  Chateaubriand, 
M.  Ballanche,  Mme.  Recamier ;  it  was  there  I  first  saw 
the  Duchess  de  Mouchy,  and  heard  her  sing.  I  am  be- 
ginning, I  feel,  to  grow  old,  for  I  am  constantly  recur- 
ring to  the  past.  But  to  consign  it  to  oblivion  would 
be  to  annihilate  it ;  and,  moreover,  the  present  does  Bot 
intei-est  the  imagination  much ;  after  having  been  un- 
duly excited,  we  have  now  fallen  into  a  state  of  languor 
which  has  also  its  drawbacks  :  first  of  all,  it  is  tiresome ; 
Paris,  too,  which  its  always  odious  in  summer,  is  now 
more  disagreeable  than  ever.  Building  is  going  on  every- 
where, consequently  every  thing  is  in  disorder ;  nothing 
to  be  seen  but  stones  and  mortar,  excavations,  barred 
streets.  It  is  like  being  in  a  city  of  the  United  States. 
For  onoe  it  is  permitted  me  to  leave  Paris  without  re- 
gret, for  it  is  hot,  disagreeable,  and  empty.  I  am  going 
to  plunge  into  my  reminiscences  of  travel  with  Mouchy 
in  perspective.  I  shall  try  to  make  you  like  America  a 
little.  As  for  the  Duke  de  Mouchy,  he  and  I  are  per- 
fectly agreed  on  that  point." 

When  the  Duchess  de  Mouchy  made  her  kind  propo- 
sition to  Ampere,  the  possibility  of  forming  any  alliance 
other  than  a  closer  one  with  De  Tocqueville  had  never 
entered  his  mind,  for  he  was  still  a  stranger  to  the 
sentiment  which  was  to  determine  all  the  rest  of  his  life. 
M.  de  Tocqueville,  on  his  part,  earnestly  hoped  that  the 
similarity  of  their  tastes  and  pursuits  would  in  the 
end  fix  at  his  side  his  erratic  friend.     Fate  ordered 


262  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

it  otherwise.  During  liis  stay  at  Sorrento,  in  1850, 
Ampere  met  a  French  family  with  whom  he  had  some 
pleasant  intercourse,  that  did  not,  however,  at  that 
time  ripen  into  intimacy.  Subsequently,  the  health 
of  a  beloved  dauGjhter  ^  brouGjht  M.  and  Mme.  de 
Cheuvreux  back  every  winter  to  Italy,  where  they 
finally  took  up  their  abode  permanently.  Ampere, 
drawn  to  Rome  by  his  historical  and  archaeological 
studies,  met  them  again  in  this  his  favorite  city.  In- 
vincibly subjugated  by  a  person  of  angelic  nature,  he 
attached  himself  to  her  devotedly,  as  was  always  his 
wont,  and  gave  himself  up  wholly  to  her  family, — 
sharing,  first,  their  long,  unceasing  anxiety,  then  the  an- 
guish of  their  grief,  and  finally  their  worship  of  a  sainted 
memory.  Henceforward  he  divided  his  life  very  un- 
equally between  Rome,  Tocqueville,  and  Paris,  giving 
to  the  latter  city  the  smallest  j^ossible  share  consistent 
with  the  fulfilment  of  his  duties  at  the  Collesre  de 
France.  The  distaste  Ampere  had  for  Paris  was  further 
increased  by  the  memory  of  the  many  bereavements  he 
had  suflfered  there.  Thus,  during  the  year  following 
his  voyage  to  America,  when  he  seemed  to  be  recruit- 
ing his  energies  and  recovering  his  former  cheerfulness, 
he  met  again  with  two  heavy  blows.  One  was  the 
death  of  Adrien  de  Jussieu,  "  my  earliest  and  one  of 
ray  best  friends,"  he  wrote ;  the  other  that  of  Ozanam. 
In  the  bitterness  of  his  grief  he  exclaimed,  "  One  more 
void  in  my  life,  another  great  sorrow.     We  have  need, 


1  Mme.  Guillemin.  —  Tk. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  263 

indeed,  of  courage  to  stiniggle  on  when  we  see  our 
loved  ones  fiilling  around  us.  Truly  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  live." 

No  sooner,  therefore,  had  he  completed  the  twentieth 
ye.ar  of  his  professorship,  which  entitled  him,  according 
to  rule,  to  appoint  his  successor,  than  he  gladly  re- 
linquished his  chair  to  M.  de  Lomenie,  who  had  already 
shown  himself  so  well  calculated  to  fill  it. 

From  Rome,  Ampere  wrote  to  the  Duchess  de 
Mouchy,  February  14,  1855  :  — 

"  Imagine,  madame,  with  what  gratitude  and  emo- 
tion I  received  your  precious  parcel,  and  read  over 
again  that  charming  and  noble  production !  ^  I  have 
read  the  simple  and  touching  lines  with  which  you  ac- 
company it ;  and  then  the  portrait  and  the  view  of  dear 
and  desolate  Mouchy!  I  have  recognized  the  window 
of  that  room  where  I  was  so  kindly  nursed  in  my  ill- 
ness. Many  memories,  both  sweet  and  sad,  came  crowd- 
ing upon  me.  Each  line,  each  word  struck  me  with 
new  force.  I  seemed  to  hear,  to  see  her  who  penned 
them.  I  thank  you  also  for  the  article  (on  his  "  Prom- 
enade en  Amerique  ")  which  you  have  sent  me ;  while  it 
is  kindly  as  all  the  others  which  I  have  seen,  it  blames 
me  for  not  being  liberal  enough.     I  think  I  never  de- 

1  "  The  Life  of  the  Prmcess  de  Poix,  «ee  Beauvau,"  by  the  Vis- 
countess de  Noailles,  a  very  delightful  book,  wliicli  gives  a  cliarm- 
ing  picture  of  the  most  refined  society  of  the  last  century.  The 
Duchess  de  Mouchy  had  a  few  copies  of  this  book  printed  for 
private  circulation  after  the  death  of  her  mother.  It  is  a  2hef 
d'ceuvrc  of  typography. 


264  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

served  the  reproach  so  little,  and  there  is  some  merit 
in  it,  as  the  opposite  principle  is  certainly  now  trium- 
phant ;  but  I  am  too  old  and  too  obstinate  to  change. 

"  I  have  seen  the  Abbe  Roux,  and  have  enjoyed  very 
much  talking  with  him  about  his  uncle  ;  he  intends  to 
pass  three  years  in  Rome  :  I  scarcely  regard  him  as  an 
object  of  pity :  if  I  could  transport  hither  certain  per- 
sons that  I  know,  I  sliould  regret  Paris  and  its  leace 
celebrations  but  little. 

"  Meantime,  I  am  doing  my  best  to  get  away,  hunt- 
ing up  antiquities  by  day  and  writing  by  night.  But  I 
am  not  yet  at  the  end  of  my  task,  and  as  tlie  longer  it 
is  the  longer  I  shall  have  to  stay  here,  you  will  permit 
me  to  be  of  the  opinion  that  there  are  too  many  Moman 
Emperors. 

"  Adieu,  madame ;  many,  very  many  affectionate 
respects.  You  know  the  friends  to  whom  I  should  like 
to  be  remembered." 

In  October  of  this  year,  the  last  of  his  professorship, 
Ampere  was  present  at  the  marriage  of  his  friend  and 
successor,  M.  de  Lomenie,  with  the  great-niece  of  Mme. 
Recamier.  Writing  from  Rome,  May  6,  1856,  to  his 
amiable  and  spirituelle  correspondent,  the  Duchess  de 
Mouchy,  to  whom  he  delighted  to  give  an  account  of 
his  labors,  he  says :  — 

"  After  having  officiated  as  a  witness  on  this  to  me 
very  pleasant  occasion,  I  took  passage  by  the  direct 
line  of  steamers  Avhich  sail  three  times  a  week,  and  in 
a  wonderfully  short  time  found  myself  in  Rome. 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  265 

"  I  have  been  working  for  a  year  as  I  never  worked 
before  in  my  life,  and  shall  have  heaps  of  prose  and 
verse  to  bring  away  with  me. 

"  Madame,  your  mother,  whom  I  love  to  talk  of  with 
you,  of  whom  I  so  often  think,  and  whose  delightful 
book  I  have  just  read  over  again,  was  kind  enough  to 
think,  and  often  told  me,  that  I  ought  not  to  study 
quite  so  much  what  has  been  done  by  others,  but  de- 
vote myself  somewhat  more  to  original  composition. 
So  I  have  undertaken  to  produce  something  of  my 
own ;  I  have  written  a  comedy,  an  historical  play,  and 
a  novel.  This  is  not  bad  for  a  beginning,  and  I  look 
upon  myself  as  a  very  promising  youth  of  fifty-six. 

"  *  Dans  ma  tete  un  beau  jour  ce  talent  se  trouva, 
Et  j'avais  cinquante  ans  quand  cela  m'arriva.' 

"  I  can  apply  to  myself  these  lines  of  '  La  Metro- 
manie,'  and  so  make  myself  still  younger.  Roman 
history  has  suffered  somewhat  from  these  poetical  and 
romantic  infidelities ;  nevertheless,  I  do  not  mean  to  be 
divorced  from  her ;  and  if  for  a  time  I  have  neglected 
her,  and  yielded  to  the  fascinations  of  other  loves,  I 
have  now  repented  of  my  errors  and  returned  to  my 
allegiance." 

At  no  time,  indeed,  had  Ampere  accomplished  more 
work  than  during  these  last  nine  years  of  his  life.  Sus- 
tained and  stimulated  as  it  were  by  the  devoted  friend- 
ship which  engrossed  him  wholly,  no  sooner  had  he 
seen  his  "  Promenade  en  Amerique  "  through  the  press 
than  he  set  to  work  with  ardor  to  collect  materials  and 
12 


266  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPJ^RE 

write  his  "  Histoire  Romaine  a  Rome."  While  engaged 
in  making  the  extensive  researches  required  for  that 
work,  he  also  composed  a  long  poem  on  the  life  of 
Caesar,  another  upon  Alexander,  and,  finally,  a  third 
epic,  of  which  St.  Paul  was  the  hero.  All  this  did  not 
prevent  him  paying  a  short  Aasit  to  his  friends  in  France ; 
he  passed  a  few  days  in  Paris,  whence  he  announced 
to  M.  de  Tocqueville  his  intention  to  join  him  in  Nor- 
mandy.    The  latter  replied,  August  3,  1856  :  — 

"  Dear  Friend,  —  Your  approaching  arrival  fills  us 
with  a  joy  too  great  for  words.  Do  you  know  that  it 
is  almost  a  year  since  we  have  seen  you?  In  truth, 
it  is  not  well  that  you  and  I,  who  are  advancing  in 
life,  should  give  one  another  so  rarely  the  pleasure  of 
each  other's  society.  Your  arrangement  to  stay  three 
weeks  adds  much  to  our  satisfaction,  for  we  shall  thus 
have  you  alone  with  us  for  more  than  a  week.  We 
feel  extremely  grateful  to  you  for  consenting  to  come 
and  help  us  entertain  our  guests ;  but  what  we  really 
enjoy  when  you  are  here  is  the  coming  together  of 
three  persons  between  whom  there  exists  such  entire 
freedom  of  intercourse,  united  to  so  mutual  but  uncon- 
strained a  desire  to  please.  And  so  we  look  forward 
with  especial  pleasure  to  your  long  visit  at  the  end  of 
the  autumn. 

"  My  wife  has  taken  particular  pains  to  make  your 
room  more  endurable ;  and  while  she  has  let  it  remain  a 
garret,  she  has  made  it,  I  think,  a  warm  and  commodi- 
ous garret.     How  I  long  to  see  you  installed  in  it  for  a 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  267 

long  time !  You  say  nothing  of  Cousin  :  he  sent  me 
word  through  Beaumont  that  he  thought  of  coining  to 
see  me  on  his  way  to  Broglie.  Thereupon,  in  order  to 
persuade  him  to  come  at  the  same  time  with  you,  I 
sent  him  a  beautiful  letter,  to  which  he  has  not  replied. 
Please  let  me  know  what  he  means  to  do. 

"  What  you  tell  me  of  the  sale  of  my  book  seems  so 
fine  and  astonishing,  that  I  can  only  think  that  you 
must  have  made  a  mistake  in  the  number  — 1,800  —  of 
copies  sold.  Before  giving  myself  up  to  the  joy  of  so 
great  a  success,  I  must  have  your  assurance  that  you 
heard  and  have  remembered  rightly,  and  that  it  is  not 
800  instead  of  1,800.  I  still  constantly  receive  letters 
of  congratulation  and  sympathy.  I  should  not  be  tell- 
ing the  truth  if  I  did  not  own  that  the  whole  thing  has 
given  me  great  delight,  and  my  wife  still  greater.  The 
fact  is,  that  if  the  book  had  fallen  flat,  it  would,  with 
my  natural  inclination  to  despondency,  have  had  a  very 
serious  effect  upon  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  I  had  made 
an  immense  effort,  and  if  it  had  been  absolutely  in  vain, 
it  would  have  been  very  difficult  for  me  to  begin  any 
thing  again.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  I  am  eager  to  be 
at  work  once  more,  even  though  I  foresee  that  in  this 
part  of  my  woi-k  I  shall  have  far  more  difliculties  of  all 
kinds  to  overcome  than  I  had  in  that  just  finished.  I 
have  notes,  already  a  great  many  ideas,  on  this  part  of 
my  work,  which,  as  you  know,  is  the  one  which  first 
occurred  to  my  mind.  IsTot  with  standing  my  eagerness, 
I  do  not  wish  to  begin  again  until  a  certain  time  has 
elapsed ;  it  has  always  been  my  intention  to  wait  until 


268  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPi:RE 

you  should  be  fairly  settled  here,  for  I  depend  upon  the 
benefit  of  your  advice,  and  the  charm  which  even  your 
presence  throws  over  our  whole  life,  for  putting  me 
into  a  favorable  condition  to  labor.  Until  then  I  have 
a  little  leisure  time  on  my  hands,  which  I  should  like 
to  devote  to  Buloz ;  ^  I  promised  him  something  long 
ago.  But  here  again  I  have  great  need  of  your  advice. 
I  have  written  to  Buloz  that  I  should  ask  you  to  talk 
with  him  about  a  subject  for  me :  do  not  leave  Paris, 
I  beg  of  you,  until  you  have  had  this  conversation ;  but, 
above  all,  give  the  matter  some  little  thought  yourself. 
I  wrote  to  Buloz  that  the  life  of  Stein  (the  celebrated 
enemy  of  the  French  at  the  close  of  the  Empire),  and 
that  of  Frederick  Perthes,  written  by  his  son,  might,  per- 
haps, afford  scope  for  an  interesting  article.  They  are 
both  eminent  men,  each  in  his  way ;  both  lived  in  stir- 
ring times,  and  played  a  prominent  part  in  them. 
There  are,  moreover,  in  the  private  lives  of  these  men 
many  features  generally  characteristic  of  Germany.  I 
think  they  have  these  two  books  (they  are  very  volu- 
minous) either  in  the  library  of  the  Institute  or  in  the 
National  Library.  You  would  oblige  me  very  much  if 
you  would  bring  them  with  you,  even  if  you  have  a 
better  subject  to  propose  to  me,  for  the  books  are  inter- 
esting in  themselves,  and,  at  all  events,  would  serve  to 
brush  up  my  Gorman. 

"  What  you  tell  me  of  the  Lomenies'  friendship  for 
us  gives   us  pleasure ;  we  cordially  reciprocate  it.     I 

1  Buloz  was  editor  of  the  "  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes." 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  269 

oannot  tell  you  how  much  we  are  interested  in  that 
young  household.  The  friendship  between  you  and 
them  does  not,  you  may  be  sure,  lessen  our  regard.  I 
have  no  time  to  say  more  on  this  subject,  but  only  to 
embrace  you." 

The  winter  found  the  historian  of  Rome  back  again 
in  Rome.  The  state  of  the  dear  invalid,  the  object  of 
so  much  solicitude,  was  seemingly  no  worse ;  and  in  the 
spring  following  she  was  taken  to  Lake  Como,  where 
Ampere  rejoined  the  Cheuvreux  family.  A  letter 
addressed  to  Mme.  de  Mouchy  from  that  place  appears 
written  with  a  much  lighter  heart  than  usual.  It  seems, 
as  it  were,  to  breathe  of  hope :  — 

"  BORGOVICO,    NEAR    COMO, 

"  July  27,  1857. 

"  I  might,  and  perhaps  I  should,  madame  la  duchesse^ 
fill  a  page  or  two  with  excuses  for  having  so  long  neg- 
lected to  write  and  thank  you  for  the  kind  and  enter- 
taining letter  which  I  received  at  Rome.  But  you 
would  find  it  very  tedious  reading,  and  would  be  sorry 
that  I  had  broken  silence.  So  I  will  spare  you  the 
enumeration  of  the  causes  which  led  to  that  silence,  — 
my  work  at  Rome,  then  ray  removal  hither,  my  indo- 
lence on  the  shores  of  this  enchanted  lake,  you  may 
ascribe  it  to  what  you  will  except  to  forgetfulness  and 
insrratitude.  So  we  have  lost  that  kind  and  excellent 
M.  Brifliut !  although  I  had  long  apprehended  it ;  this 
loss  has  been  a  painful  one  to  me.  You,  too,  must  have 
mourned  his  death ;   his  memory,  which  I  shall  ever 


270  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

cherish,  is  for  me  linked  with  many  recollections,  and 
especially  with  days  passed  at  Mouchy,  when  I  had 
not  yet  recovered  from  my  illness,  and  was  the  object 
of  such  affectionate  and  delicate  care,  and  used  to 
rebel  against  your  mother  when,  for  my  good,  she  tried 
to  keep  me  from  eating,  for  her  intellectual  gifts  never 
detracted  from  her  goodness  of  heart  or  prevented  her 
from  attending  to  the  smallest  details.  You  are  now, 
I  suppose,  at  that  same  Mouchy,  of  which  I  so  often 
think.  You  must  suffer  from  the  heat  there,  as  we  are 
suffering  from  it  everywhere,  and  you  have  no  lake  to 
give  you  night  breezes,  —  this  lake  whose  natural  curi- 
osities only  I  explore,  but  upon  whose  happy  shores  all 

sorts  of  curious  things  are  to  be  seen.     Mme.  S off, 

who  has  just  gone,  sailed  upon  it  every  day  in  company 
with  the  same  Austrian  uniform,  if  not  with  the  same 
officer.  Mme.  Pasta,  who  is  much  liked  here,  no  longer 
girds  on  the  sword  of  Tancred,  but  plifes  the  spade  in 
her  garden  at  four  in  the  morning,  and  has  had  a  trap- 
door arranged  in  her  bedroom  through  which  she  can  see 

her  rabbits.     Mme.  de  V ,  a  fugitive  from  the  villa 

Pliniana,  has  changed  shores  in  changing  friends.^  The 
Prince  of  Belgiojoso  is  in  his  dotage.  Mme.  de  Bo- 
carme,  whose  son  has  had  a  misfortune,  has  taken  the 
strang-e  notion  of  cominsj  here  to  hide  her  grief  close 
beside  the  chalet  of  Mme.  Taglioni,  in  a  house  which 
she  has  had  painted  black.  The  Taglioni  house  is 
itself  i-ather  peculiar ;  but  all  this  is  on  the  right  shore, 

1  "  Mme.  de  V ,  fugitive  de  la  Pliniana,  a  change  de  rive  en 

changeant  d'ami." 


AND   THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  271 

and  I  live  on  the  left,  where  the  company  is  more  moral 
and  more  to  my  taste.  In  constantly  scribbling,  I  tiy 
to  forget  the  sorrows  of  my  country,  and  not  to  think 
too  much  about  those  of  the  country  I  am  in.  We  see 
by  "  Les  Debats,"  whenever  we  are  allowed  to  get  it, 
that  they  are  all  still  quarrelling  about  parties  and 
religion,  as  though  politics  were  not  dead,  and  religion 
very  sick.  As  for  literature,  I  do  not  hear  much  about 
it :  there  is  nothing  thoroughly  alive  except  Mme.  La 
Bourse.^  This  does  not  make  Paris  very  interesting, 
and  you  did  not  lose  much,  I  think,  in  quitting  it  as 
you  did  last  winter.  I  mean,  however,  to  return ;  but 
at  this  season  I  should  find  nobody  there,  and  shall 
remain  for  the  present  beside  my  lake,  but  on  the  Left 
bank.  Should  your  generosity  ever  incline  you  to  write 
to  me,  I  shall  be  all  the  more  grateful,  because  I  con- 
fess I  do  not  deserve  it.  But  a  letter  from  you,  ma- 
dame,  would  be  a  great  kindness,  and  a  great  delight  to 
the  emigre.  I  should  be  glad  to  know  how  you  do, 
and  to  have  news  of  your  son,  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
de  Noailles,  of  M.  de  Verac,  and  particularly  of  Mme. 
Standish.  I  would  like  also  to  be  remembered  to  all 
the  above-named  persons,  to  whom  I  beg  permission  to 
express,  through  you,  my  respectful  attachment." 

The  following  letter  from  M.  de  Tocqueville  will  end 
the  selections  from  Ampere's  correspondence,  —  a  cor- 
respondence that  death,  alas !  was  soon  to  interrupt, 
for  it  was  not  long  before  he  was  bereft  of  the  Duchess 

1  The  Stock-Exchange. 


272  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPME 

de  Mouchy  and  M.  de  Tocqueville,  as  well  as  other 
friends :  — 

"  Paris,  April  11, 1858. 

"  I  arrived  here  ten  days  ago,  my  dear  friend,  and  I 
leave  you  to  judge  how  often  I  have  spoken  of  you  to 
the  large  number  of  people  who,  in  various  degrees, 
have  for  you  a  regard  you  so  well  deserve.  Of  course 
they  are  sorry  not  to  have  seen  you,  but  they  can  easily 
understand  why  you  remain  absent;  and,  above  all, 
they  hope  not  to  be  wholly  deprived  of  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  in  the  course  of  the  summer.  You  know 
that  there  are  at  least  two  persons  in  the  world  who 
ai-e  most  warmly  and  sincerely  devoted  to  you.  I  think 
I  can  answer  for  that  in  my  wife's  name  as  well  as  my 
own,  although  she  is  not  with  me  here ;  I  have  left  her 
at  Tocqueville  for  another  fortnight,  and  you  will  for- 
give her  for  letting  me  come  away  without  her,  when 
you  know  what  is  keeping  her  there.  She  is  having 
built  under  her  own  eyes  that  famous  gallery  in  which 
we  are  to  take  our  walks  sheltered  from  the  '  down 
channel  wind,'  as  they  say  here ;  and  at  the  same  time 
is  arranging  some  little  papers.^  Alas !  when  shall  we 
see  again  those  little  papers  of  yours?  I  dare  not 
flatter  myself  that  it  will  be  soon,  nor,  indeed,  that 

1  By  these  little  papers  is  meant  the  series  of  satirical  verses 
in  which,  during  the  continuance  of  the  Empire  and  until  his 
death,  Ampere  was  in  the  habit  of  giving  vent  to  his  patriotic  in- 
dignation and  his  hatred  of  the  Bonapartes.  He  wrote  them  upon 
small  loose  sheets,  and  as  he  was  very  careless  he  often  lost  them 
out  of  his  pockets. 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  273 

when  the  time  comes,  it  will  be  for  long.  At  all  events, 
I  assure  you  that  in  the  mean  time  your  place  will  be 
kept  warm  for  you.  I  found  the  Lomenies  well,  and  full 
of  the  warmest  affection  for  you.  I  wish  that  our  good 
Lomenie  might  succeed  in  producing  a  new  book  which 
would  draw  attention  to  him.  I  think  we  should  have 
no  great  difficulty  in  getting  the  doors  of  the  Academy 
opened  to  him ;  great  men  are  beginning  to  be  terribly 
scarce ;  and  among  the  men  of  talent  there  is  no  one 
who,  by  his  life  and  character,  better  deserves  to  be 
chosen  than  he. 

"  I  saw  Levy  yesterday.  The  printing  of  your 
'  CoBsar '  is  getting  on.  More  than  two-thirds  of  my 
third  edition  are  exhausted,  and  the  book  continues  to 
sell  well.  This  encourages  me  to  go  on  with  my  work ; 
and  indeed  I  came  here  with  no  other  purpose  than 
to  work.  I  perform  my  task  conscientiously.  I  pass 
my  time  at  the  archives  or  in  the  libraries.  But  thus  far 
the  effort  has  been  greater  than  the  result.  I  brought 
quite  a  number  of  chapters  with  me  from  Tocqueville, 
but  in  such  a  rough-draught  and  sketchy  state  that  it 
would  be  useless  for  me  to  read  them  to  any  one, 
even  to  you ;  they  are  too  shapeless.  1  try  to  console 
myself  for  your  absence  by  this  reflection.  I  saw  at 
the  Lomenies  your  portrait,  a  copy  of  which  you  intend 
for  me :  thank  you  for  this  remembrance.  The  poR 
trait  looks  like  you,  but,  like  all  your  portraits,  it  gives 
the  features  but  not  the  expression.  I  do  not  know 
whether,  all  things  considered,  the  medallion  which  is 
at  Tocqueville,  in  the  billiard-room,  is  not  the  best 
12*  s 


274  JEA N-JA  CQ  UES  AMP£:RE 

thing  that  has  been  done  of  you.  No  news  to  tell  you 
that  is  not  in  the  newspapers.  It  is  hard  to  say  wliat 
is  passing  in  men's  minds;  the  only  thing  we  can  see 
with  any  certainty  is  that  there  is  a  disposition  to  find 
fault,  great  embarrassment  in  industrial  affairs,  and, 
above  all,  a  feeling  of  instability  which  appears  strange 
in  view  of  such  apparent  strength.  It  is  my  opinion, 
however,  that  nothing  important  of  any  sort  is  to  be 
expected  for  some  time  to  come.  We  can  hardly  quar- 
rel with  England,  since  we  give  up  to  her  in  every 
thing,  I  know  from  good  authority  that  the  news- 
papers have  been  warned  to  say  no  more  about  the 
island  of  Perim,  I  can  understand  that  the  English 
may  sometimes  think  that  there  are  some  good  things 
in  our  constitution  after  all.  Adieu  ',  I  embrace  you 
with  all  my  heart." 

In  another  letter  of  some  weeks'  earlier  date,  which 
also  found  Ampere  in  Italy,  Tocqueville  says  to  him :  — 

"  Happy  mortal  that  you  are,  to  be  able  to  produce, 
off-hand,  works  which  first  satisfy  yourself  and  then  de- 
light the  public !  It  is  a  real  pleasure  for  me  to  see 
you  at  work,  to  watch  that  active  and  clear-sighted 
mind,  prompt,  and,  at  the  same  time,  sure,  turning  from 
one  subject  to  another,  finding  at  once  the  right  thing 
to  say  on  each,  and  how  to  say  it  agreeably.  As  I  read 
your  letter,  I  fancied  I  could  see  you  visiting  your 
friends,  looking  for  a  lodging,  beginning  a  chapter  of 
the  *  Ilistoire  Romaine  a  Rome '  at  a  table  in  a  cafe, 
and  finishing  it  out  on  the  Roman  Campagna;  in  the 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  275 

morning  writing  pi'ose  about  the  great  rascals  of  an- 
tiquity, and  in  the  afternoon  poetry  on  the  little  rascals 
of  our  day." 

At  the  close  of  the  year  1858,  Alexis  de  Tocqueville, 
warned  too  late  of  his  danger  by  an  attack  of  bleeding 
at  the  lungs,  set  out  for  the  South  of  France,  whither  he 
should  have  gone  to  reside  permanently  years  before. 
He  passed  the  winter  at  Cannes,  alternating  between 
better  and  worse  until  every  one  but  himself  had 
given  up  all  hope.  Misled  by  the  sick  man's  letters, 
Ampere  shared  his  delusion  to  the  last :  he  was,  more- 
over, detained  in  Rome  by  other  painful  anxieties,  to 
which  I  have  already  alluded ;  but  in  the  spring  of 
1859  he  resolved  to  go  and  pass  a  few  weeks  with  his 
friend.  Full  of  pleasant  anticipations  at  the  thought 
of  again  seeing  De  Tocqueville,  he  went  to  Provence  as 
confidently  as  in  former  years  he  had  gone  to  Tocque- 
ville. The  terrible  news  of  the  death  of  the  man  he 
was  going  to  see  met  him  at  Marseilles,  and  he  reached 
Cannes  barely  in  time  to  be  present  at  the  funeral. 

He  had  at  least  the  consolation  of  bringing  Mme.  de 
Tocqueville  back  to  Paris,  and  accompanying  to  Nor- 
mandy the  remains  of  his  dear  and  deeply  lamented 
Alexis.  In  the  month  of  September  following,  he  was 
called  upon  to  bear  another  and,  perhaps,  a  still  more 
poignant  grief,  —  a  grief  jDcnetrating  and  profound, 
which  riveted  the  chains  that  bound  him  to  the  deso- 
late hearth-stone  of  his  friends  the  Cheuvreux. 

Not  long  after,  as  if  to  comjDlete  the  list  of  blows 


276  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

death  was  to  inflict  during  that  pitiless  year,  Charles 
Lenorraant  died  at  Athens,  a  victim  to  his  ardor  in  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge,  stricken  down  in  the  land  he 
had  loved  so  well,  and  where  Ampere  had  been  his 
sympathizing  companion.  Crushed  and  stunned  as  it 
were  by  all  these  successive  catastrophes,  Ampere,  as 
he  afterward  declai-ed,  thought  that  his  mind  would 
give  way.  He  recovered,  nevertheless,  from  the  shock : 
two  things  helped  him  to  live  on,  —  his  love  of  work, 
and  the  sublime  hopes  of  religion.  He  returned  to 
France  in  company  with  the  friends  from  whom  he 
never  again  separated,  passing  the  winters  with  them 
in  Paris  and  the  summers  at  the  chateau  de  Stors, 
near  He- Adam.  He  did  not  altogether  abandon  Rome ; 
the  historical  labors  which  he  bravely  continued  would 
have  obliged  him  to  return  thither,  even  if  his  old  love 
for  that  noble  city  had  not  made  him  wish  to  do  so. 
But  they  were  only  visits  of  a  few  weeks  at  a  time. 

The  son  of  an  ardent  Catholic,  Ampere  had  from  his 
childhood  learned  to  respect  the  faith  of  his  illustrious 
father ;  but,  as  with  most  men  of  the  present  century, 
his  youth  had  been  assailed  by  doubt ;  his  soul  no 
longer  found  repose  in  faith,  still  less  could  it  reconcile 
itself  to  unbelief.  His  was  the  state  of  mind  described 
by  a  great  poet  in  immortal  lines :  — 

..."  Malgrd  moi  I'infini  me  tourmente ; 
Je  ii'y  saurais  songer  sans  crainte  et  sans  espoir, 
Et  quoi  qu'on  en  ait  dit,  ma  raison  s'epouvante 
De  ne  pas  le  comprendre  et  pourtant  de  le  voir."  ^ 

1  Alfred  de  Musset,  L' Espoir  en  Dieu. 


AND  THE  ABBA  YE-A  UX-BOIS.  277 

This  yearning  after  the  infinite  long  tormented  Am- 
pere, and  during  the  first  j^art  of  his  life  he  was  a  prey 
to  the  most  painful  spiritual  anxieties.  In  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  him  at  Bonn  by  Mme.  Recamier,  in  reply  to 
one  wherein  the  young  sceptic  of  twenty-five  spoke  of 
the  impression  made  upon  him  by  the  German  exegeti- 
cal  works,  the  reader  may  have  noticed  this  passage : 
"  Since  you  can  no  longer  believe  with  the  simple  be- 
lieve with  the  learned ;  thus  by  different  ways  we  shall 
reach  the  same  result."  The  mind  of  our  friend  drifted 
long  amid  the  perplexities  of  doubt,  but  he  ever  sought 
the  truth  with  ardor  and  good  faith.  The  chosen  con- 
fidants of  these  mental  diflSculties  were  Mme.  Recamier 
and  Ballanche ;  the  faith  of  the  latter  in  the  super- 
natural was  so  firm  that  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  As  for 
me,  I  am  more  sure  of  the  other  life  than  I  am  of  this." 
One  of  Ampere's  letters  from  Dieppe,  in  1854,  contains 
the  following  passage,  which  testifies  to  his  strong  aspi- 
rations after  complete  certitude :  — 

"  I  still  pursue  my  readings,  and  continue  to  be  in 
the  same  well-disposed  frame  of  mind,  but  I  have  not 
at  all  times  the  same  fervor.  There  are  moments  when 
what  I  thought  I  held  fast  seems  to  fly  from  me  and 
hide  itself.  As  Fenelon  says :  '  This  is  the  greatest 
trial ;  this,  too,  we  must  endure,  and  turn  constantly 
in  the  direction  whence  the  light  has  shone  so  brightly, 
although  for  the  moment  it  may  be  pale  or  even  hid- 
den. He  who  waits  with  faith  and  hope  will  see  it 
shining  again  upon  the  hill.'     The  beacon  which  I  see 


278  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

to-night  gleaming  in  the  distance  is  also  not  a  fixed 
light ;  by  turns  it  shines  and  then  seems  to  go  out. 
But  the  mariner  keeps  his  eye  fixed  upon  the  point 
where  the  light  apjDears  at  intervals,  and  which  at 
times  an  intervening  wave  conceals.  The  wave  sub- 
sides, the  light-house  still  stands ;  its  light,  an  instant 
obscured,  reappears,  seemingly  more  brilliant  than  be- 
fore, and  reveals  the  harbor  to  the  little  bark  bewildered 
amid  the  waves.  I  am  the  seaman  in  the  little  bark, 
and  you  are  its  patron  saint." 

In  another  letter  of  the  same  period,  we  read  : — 

"  There  is  service  in  the  church  here  every  evening. 
I  go  and  ensconce  myself  in  a  dark  seat  in  the  beauti- 
ful, dimly-lighted  church;  there  I  sit,  I  listen  to  the 
chants,  with  my  head  bowed  in  sincere  humility  I  re- 
ceive the  benediction ;  then  I  go  out  and  listen  by  the 
sea-shore  to  another  harmony  and  another  prayer, — 
the  concert  of  the  winds,  the  waves,  the  stars,  the 
night." 

Thus  we  see  Ampere  exclaiming,  like  the  man 
in  the  Gospel :  "  Lord,  I  believe ;  help  thou  mine 
unbelief"  Nothing*  so  prepares  the  mind  for  the  re- 
ception of  religious  faith  as  a  great  sorrow.  More 
forcibly  than  the  most  eloquent  pages  of  philosophers, 
the  voices  of  the  friends  we  mourn  bring  home  to  our 
souls  the  conviction  that  there  is  a  God  and  a  life  be- 
yond the  grave.  The  death  of  Mme.  Recamier  marked 
a  great  step  in  Amp6re's  religious  progress  ;  the  loss  of 


AND  THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  279 

the  object  of  his  latest  alFections,  —  of  one  who  had 
captivated  alike  his  imagination  and  his  heart,  — a  still 
greater  one.  Ampere  loved  to  confound  in  one  regret 
the  two  memories.  On  the  1st  of  January,  1862,  he 
wrote  to  one  who  had  been  the  friend  of  his  youth  :  — 

"  Deak,  vert  dear  Mme.  Lenobmant,  —  I  was 
going  to  write  to  you  —  for  I  was  unwilling  that  the 
first  day  of  the  year  should  go  by  without  communi- 
cating with  you,  sole  relic  of  the  friends  of  other  days 
—  when  the  letter  came  which  you,  moved  by  a  feeling 
similar  to  my  own,  were  happily  impelled  to  write  to 
me.  It  has  touched,  it  has  moved  me ;  I  thank  you 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heai*t  for  having  written  it. 
Like  yon,  I  thank  God  for  having  given  me  what  he 
has  given  me  and  for  what  he  has  taken  away.  I  have 
known  and  loved  very  beautiful  souls  here  below,  —  your 
adorable  aunt  and  another  person  worthy  to  be  named 
with  her,  who  was  as  obscure  as  she  was  famous,  but 
not  unlike  her ;  also  my  dear  Tocqueville,  he,  too,  was 
kneaded  of  that  finer  clay,  and  cast  in  a  mould  which 
God  apparently  has  seen  fit  to  break." 

All  who  have  known  Ampere  will  bear  witness  that 
his  ever-growing  interest  in  the  hopes  and  concerns  of 
another  life  went  hand-in-hand  with  his  moral  develop- 
ment. Little  faults  of  temper  disappeared ;  his  interest 
in  others  became  more  constant,  more  afiectionate ;  his 
generosity,  always  admirable,  grew  greater  and  greater, 
until  he  had  no  thought  of  himself.     As  flowers  at  the 


280  JEAN-JACQUES  AMPERE 

coming  on  of  night  fill  the  air  with  a  more  pei-vading 
fragrance,  a  sweeter  charm,  so  his  fine  nature  toward 
the  end  of  his  earthly  career  poured  forth  its  treasures 
in  greater  profusion. 

For  several  years  Ampere  had  sufiered,  if  not  from 
an  affection  of  the  throat,  at  least  from  an  excessive 
delicacy  of  that  organ,  — and  the  craving  he  had  to  pass 
all  his  winters  at  the  South  was  only  the  instinct  of  a 
constitution  fatally  susceptible  to  cold.  He  would  not 
allow  himself  sufiicient  sleep,  working  usually  until 
four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  spite  of  the 
urgent  remonstrances  of  his  friends.  His  mental  vital- 
ity blinded  himself  and  others  to  the  rapid  decline  of 
his  physical  strength ;  nevertheless,  we  thought  him 
veiy  much  changed  when  he  started  for  Pau  to  join 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Cheuvreux  in  December,  1863. 
But  far  from  taking  any  rest,  he  continued  with  fever- 
ish activity  the  publication  of  his  "Roman  History," 
writing  the  last  chapters  of  the  fourth  volume  while 
correcting  the  proofs  of  the  third ;  and  it  was  only  by 
dint  of  unexampled  labor  that  he  succeeded  in  com- 
pleting this  monument  of  his  genius. 

Early  in  March,  1864,  believing  himself  in  full  health, 
and  without  any  presentiment  of  his  approaching  end, 
he  made  his  will,  recommending  himself,  in  terms  wholly 
Christian  and  with  a  touching  confidence,  to  the  Divine 
mercy,  and  concluding  with  the  following  words  ad- 
dressed to  the  friends  with  whom  he  was  living ;  — 

"In  conclusion,  I  bless  them  tenderly  for  their  friend- 


AND   THE  ABBAYE-AUX-BOIS.  281 

ship,  which  has  been  the  charm  and  consolation  of  my 
life.  I  firmly  trust  that  we  shall  meet  again  by  the  side 
of  her  whom  we  have  all  loved,  and  who  gave  us  to  one 
another." 

Only  a  week  after,  a  sudden  death,  which  gave  him 
no  time  even  to  say  farewell,  cast  its  pall  over  the  last 
earthly  aspirations  of  his  spirit,  and  hid  the  secrets  of 
that  mercy  to  which  no  sincere  suppliant  has  ever  ap- 
pealed in  vain. 

The  friends  to  whom  Ampere  bequeathed  his  very 
small  fortune,  together  with  the  copyright  of  his  works, 
and  the  care  of  publishing  them,  have  applied  it  to  a 
pui'pose  which  reflects  honor  upon  him  as  well  as  them- 
selves. M.  Cheuvreux  has  created  a  fund,  the  income 
of  which,  two  thousand  francs,  is  to  be  at  the  disposal 
for  two  years  of  any  young  artist,  writer,  or  student  of 
science,  a  native  of  Lyons,  to  whom  it  shall  be  awarded 
by  the  Academy  of  that  city. 

This  prize  bears  the  name  of  Ampere. 


THE   END. 


Cambridge:  Press  of  John  Wilson  and  Son. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

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